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The sweltering heat of the nether never felt like anything to him.
He shoveled greedily through the coarse, fibrous soil, red chunks falling away from the wall at the dig of his claws. A grin spread across his face as a glimmer of yellow finally flashed from within the netherrack.
Gold- but not just any gold, a gold that meant something to him. Nether gold. Dream had once told him that there wasn’t a difference, but he could tell. The nuggets gleamed brighter, tempered hotter, remained pure among the clumps of the nether. He could almost feel something living within that warm glow.
Picking the pieces out, he stuffed them into the leather satchel resting on his hip and turned back to the pathway home.
With a pleasant buzzing in his head and a hearth in his chest, he dumped the foraged bits into a silvery pan and slid it into the forge with a note of satisfaction, watched the wrought iron light up red, melting down the precious metal into a pool of glittering yellow. From there, he set his tongs back into the flames, cautiously lifting it out before moving to pour it into the casting mold.
It was a fast-moving process- he quickly lifted it with a mitt to the anvil, and sent a fiery halo of sparks out from his hammer with every angled strike, until it finally reached the shape he’d been aiming for.
With a hiss of steam, he dunked the blade in a barrel of water and basked in the way it refracted. It was perfect.
It was winter again, even though it was sort of a round-year feeling living in the middle of a freezing biome. Snow began to flit past in gusts of wind outside, stirring just enough life into the morning to make the snow-capped darkness look pleasant, right as the sun’s rays began to touch back down on the world. It refracted rust, daffodil, and vermillion off the icy hills and frostbitten pine needles, the sun a massive, gentle hand spreading tepid affection, tapping every blade of grass laying untouched by the new-fallen snow.
A small drove of sheep trotted by outside, finding those little patches of green and munching calmly. Techno reclined on his sofa and admired the view. A piping hot cup of tea warmed his hands, which he sipped from quietly as the sun climbed its way across the sky. Any minute now, he’d be expecting somebody to enjoy this rare dawn with.
At the sound of his front door being aggressively crashed into, he merely turned an ear towards the ruckus but smiled slightly when an incredibly disheveled looking man threw them open and stumbled into the living space, wings spread awkwardly in the confined space.
“Hey Quackity. Mind closing the doors behind you? Rather not make the inside of my house snow-capped too, as pretty as it might look outside.” He didn’t answer, but rather readjusted himself so that his wings were no longer at risk of knocking a brewing stand over and accidentally lighting the house on fire and kicked the door shut with his heel before coming to sit next to Techno on the sofa.
His eye bags were almost purple in their intensity, his skin paler than usual, sallow. It sent a pang of regret through Techno’s chest. Requesting to meet this early in the morning was a possible detriment to the man’s sleep schedule.
“Quackity..? You want some tea? You’re not looking too hot.”
“Mnh, I’m fine. Schlatt’s just… working us overtime again…” He flopped a hand in a halfhearted attempt to dismiss the statement. “But ‘m sure it’ll pass… tea would be nice, thanks.” The piglin nodded, taking a bubbling vial of hot water from one of the stands and pouring it into a mug, which contained his favorite blend(something he had made out of boredom not too long back out of various roses he had grown, along with a bit of a dried wither rose, which he had found to, ironically, be a fantastic soothing agent).
He pressed it into his hands, and Quackity drank it greedily.
“Mmmm… good tea.” He drank again. “What’d you want to talk to me about again..?” The hybrid’s voice dipped drowsily as he set the teacup down. It seemed almost as if he’d spent the entire flight there trying not to pass out after a sleepless day and night.
“Poor thing…” He muttered to himself. “Politics can wait. For now, why don’t we enjoy this rare sunrise..?” The heat of the mug seeped into his bones, cozying up the tiny room so that watching the snowflakes drift by was especially magical.
Techno turned to face the man. Just as he’d predicted, he was out cold before he could even finish his sentence. A fond smile crossed his lips as he noted the tiny features he couldn’t have seen before- his blissfully at peace expression that you’d only ever see when he was sleeping, dark hair and eyelashes that lay like fine feathers across his soft complexion like toffee, keen, pink lips blushed with rose and tones of blue.
All the more reason to dismantle the Schlatt administration- the unbearable consequences of government, of capitalism, had begun to wear on him, appearing in his eyes, his previously powerful physique that’d grown thinner and sallow.
Techno sighed deeply and moved to stand, but was held back by an arm loosely wrapped around one of his own. When he tried to gently pull himself free, it only pulled harder, accompanied by a few unintelligible mumbles from Quackity’s sleeping figure.
You have work to do, a voice unhelpfully pitched in.
Oh, it’d probably only be for a minute or so. There was no harm in a little downtime.
He sat back down beside the man and was immediately greeted by a new sleeping head lulled onto his shoulder and a wing around his back.
He wasn’t used to being touched, generally being one to flinch away from contact, sidestep hugs because of a deep-rooted fear of knives in his back and cinnamon in his wine- but he felt almost safe, sitting before the window with the sleepy hybrid.
Warm.
It was cozy there. He turned, gently running a hand through the russet feathers on the tip of his wing. Red like rust, like blood.
Warm.
He yawned, leaning slightly into Quackity. It couldn’t hurt he just rested his eyes for a moment…
His feet crunched softly across the snow-covered grass as he crossed the short stretch of land to Techno’s house. He’d mentioned something about brewing potions the next day, and while he wasn't explicitly invited(he believed the exact words had been ‘get out of my house,’ but it really was a more spur of the moment statement- he was sure his presence would be appreciated, or at least, undisturbing), the prospect of learning how to brew potions with a master was a deeply intriguing concept to the enderman.
“Oh! Hello there.” He almost didn’t notice the little sheep at his feet, but with a meek ‘baa’ and a nudge at his shin, Ranboo was alerted to its presence. The fine fluff on its small head was so young that the fur was almost pink, translucent against its skin.
He suddenly remembered what he’d been foraging earlier, and shoved a hand into his bag only to reveal a surprisingly lush clump of grass. He set it in front of the creature, who muched it gratefully.
“Hm.”
Ranboo quietly opened the spruce door, fully expecting to be greeted with a trident in his face along with the deafeningly loud buzz of 12 different brewing stands boiling chemicals and ingredients that may or may not be extremely poisonous(one time, he’d decided to smell one of Techno’s potions while it was still steaming and it paralyzed him for a week!), but was a bit surprised to, for once, hear nothing. Had he gone out of town?
“Oh. Ohhhhhh .” Ranboo trod on eggshells as he passed the couch, which was now angled towards the window and hosted the sleeping bodies of two people who may or may not attempt to stab him if they woke up-to be fair, looming at almost 9 feet tall and being half enderman didn’t help decrease his fear factor, but that didn’t mean he deserved to not be stabbed on impulse any less than the average Joe.
He figured that if Techno wasn’t going to be awake to teach him potion chemistry, he might as well make himself comfortable. It only took him a minute of digging to find his food stash, aka probably the most malnourishing pile of metallic fruits and vegetables he’d ever seen, along with a few dry-aged steaks.
“Pots… pans?” He dug through another bin of supplies. “Aha!” The hybrid pulled out a cast iron triumphantly and set it down softly on top of a makeshift stove top(a bunsen burner he's situated over an iron grate). He wasn’t sure how long he’d have to sit waiting, so the least he could do was make himself something to snack on in the meantime.
Huh.
Was something… burning?
Techno cracked an eye open wearily, forcing himself to do a double-take when he realized what was in front of him.
First, there were two plates in front of him, each proudly displaying a bundle of wheat and some severely blackened potatoes, and holding them was the enderman he hadn't trapped in a boat, smiling widely and wearing a sign around his neck.
Hello! Please do not stab me. I made you lunch. I am not an enderman (well I am actually but not the kind that
The sign cut off as if he'd run out of space halfway through his sentence. Classy.
He yawned and sat forward, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the scent of the food. His ear flicked in annoyance. What had he…
Quickly, the reality of things caught up with him, sending a jolt of panic through his chest. Just how long had he left both of their throats bared? All it would have taken was one unkind soul with a weapon to end things, then and there.
He squinted as he noticed the sun beginning to dip behind the hills in front of his home. That meant he had slept for… oh, almost 8 hours. The fact that the house was, in fact, still solid beneath his feet gave him faith at least that he hadn’t left anything brewing unattended.
A sigh of mixed relief escaped through his mouth as he finally turned to face the least threatening intruder he’d ever seen.
“Hi Techno!” He began with a smile, “Are you going to start making invisibility potions soon?”
“Is that why you broke into my house while I was sleeping and burnt some of my expensive food?” Ranboo nodded enthusiastically, earning another sigh in response. Staring at his feet, the piglin was swiftly reminded why this all had happened- the gift remained untouched in it’s box.
Almost as if on cue, Quackity began to stir once he picked it up off the ground. His eyes squinted and pinched before he finally sat forward with a light groan. His eye bags were still there, but the painful purple had faded to a sort of fleshy mauve.
Techno would have pointed it out, how much it seemed like the administration was draining the life out of him, but it had proven to be a bit of a touchy subject. Maybe he couldn’t explicitly force the man to take some time out of his schedule to sleep, but what he could be was a support- somebody he could come to when things got bad.
“Ugh… how long did I…” Quackity practically flew off the couch to the door in the ten seconds it took him to realize the time. “Shit shit shit shit-” He threw the door open and got blown back with a strong gust of icy wind.
“Woah, woah, Quackity-” Techno hastily jumped up to follow him. “What’s wrong?”
“Schlatt.” He said breathlessly, hoisting himself back up for a second attempt to squeeze out the door. “He’s already been bent out of shape- we’re really behind on filing and property charges- I can’t believe I just slept for a whole day -”
“Quackity. Slow down.” He set a solid hand on one of the man’s shoulders. They were petite, feeling like bone china on the verge of shattering beneath his grip. “If you try to rush out right now, you’ll get blown over by the snow and freeze to death. Wait for it to pass.” The gears in Quacity’s brain were turning as he sized up the storm, he could almost see it.
“But…” He weakly protested, voice cracking slightly.
“Don’t worry. From what I can see, it’ll be safe flying in about 20 minutes. And besides-” He reached over the back of the sofa, grabbing the long box, “I have something for you.” Techno snickered lightly when he noticed the look of curiosity on his face, one wing twitching slightly. It was kinda funny.
“Hey. Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not, I swear.” The box made it into Quacity’s hands with a laugh. He scrunched up his nose at the noise but opened the box regardless. The gold reflected onto his face, which he reveled in with a strange delight.
“Woahhhh.” He pulled the sword out, testing its weight in one hand and admiring the construction. “This craftsmanship is incredible.” Techno’s chest swelled with pride.
“Of course. What kind of reputation would I have if I got well known for passing out second rate swords?” The words elicited from the other a tempered giggle, like the sound of gold tinking into a forge iron and the crunch of fresh snowfall. It was refreshing. Before he even recognized what he was doing, his head dipped and he nudged Quackity’s chest gently with the crown of his skull. When he realized the greeting he'd just done, his cheeks flushed pink. “Oh, uh, sorry- Piglin stuff. Don’t mind me.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” He looked down on the place he’d been butted with a hint of affection. “And I suppose that’s a solid point.” He glanced out the window. The storm had cleared, leaving a new inch of snow on every outdoor surface. “Cleared up pretty fast! I’ll take that as my cue to take off.” He grinned, patting Techno’s shoulder in an attempted match of intensity, severely undermined by the fact that he was probably a foot taller than the hybrid, and four times as stocky, but the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “And… Thanks for today, Techno. I think I needed a break.” Quackity pursed his lips, reclining his hand. “It’s uh. It’s pretty nice knowing there’s somebody out there who can be there for you when you need it, yano?” He coughed awkwardly. “Anyways, I’ll be, uh, going now. Bye!” Techno watched in half awe as he slid the sword into his backpack before stepping outside and swooping off his porch, a faint figure in the sky in a matter of moments. The words were still processing in his head.
Somebody who could be there for him…
Unknowingly, a small smile crossed his lips as he bid Quackity farewell from the window. Maybe it wasn’t everything he wanted to be just yet.
But it was enough.