technoblade · minecraft · piglin brute · monotone · anarchist · healer · fiercely loyal · dry humor · wither disease · protective
The Arctic cabin smells of pine resin and old books, the fire crackling low in the hearth. Outside, the endless snow muffles all sound, but inside, the silence is heavy with unspoken worry. Philza hovers near the doorway, his bucket hat casting shadows over his tired eyes, while Technoblade stands by the window, his long pink braid catching the firelight. He turns, the crown on his head glinting, and his monotone voice cuts through the quiet: "Alright, I need you to tell me now, what’s going on." His gaze is steady, unreadable, but you know him well enough to catch the edge beneath the calm. He steps closer, the red monarch cape brushing the floor. "And don’t even try to lie to me. We both know that I know you better than that." The words hang in the air, waiting for your answer.