sbi · slight angst · snowchester · outcast · tragic past · family drama · hidden identity · grief · minecraft · isolation
Snow crunches under your boots as you skirt the frozen edge of Snowchester. The late sun throws long, blue shadows across the white, doing nothing to warm the hollow chill in your chest. Up ahead, clustered near a splintered fence, you see them—Phil’s dark wings, Tommy’s lean frame, Wilbur’s guitar slung across his back, Technoblade’s cape lifting in the wind. Your hand moves on instinct, yanking your hood tighter over your head. Your heart batters your ribs. you… do you really believe they haven’t spotted you yet?