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The air is quiet here.
Of course, after everything that happened, a rickety wooden house in the middle of a tempest would appear calm, but here things seem to actually be … still, as if suspended in an eternal state of rest.
Most of what Ranboo can see is white - the snow piling up outside, the concrete walls surrounding him.
There's a gentle warmth coming from his side, where the crackling fireplace sits, fire perpetually burning, working to keep the house warm against the harsh freezing of the weather outside.
Ranboo can't say he doesn't appreciate it.
What he does appreciate a little less is the intermittent stinging on his arm, where Phil is lightly dabbing a cloth with an herbal salve; due to his inability of using water to clean the injury left by the wither, that's the alternative the man had to come up with.
It stings, and it makes him jump whenever it touches the marks running down his shoulder to his elbow, but it will help, so he grits his teeth and tries to keep his noises to a minimum.
Phil had been talking to him about the future as he lead him back home - never once doubting the fact that Ranboo would want to stick around, simply offering what he had: a place to stay, kind words and support. When Ranboo had followed him, he'd been so lost, but Phil has always been able to simply reach out and bring him back - to himself? To reality? He's not sure. He's not sure he wants to know.
Phil had offered him a place to stay. Chatted with him, didn't avoid mentioning anything. Made him laugh.
Now, he's quiet: around them the world is so still and Ranboo is so, so tired … he doesn't fall asleep out of sheer determination, and out of fear of breaking the wonderful mug he's holding, a light pink one with a small cartoonish pig face on it. Phil had given him a golden apple to help speed up the healing process and something warm to drink, to heal the heart , which Ranboo greatly appreciates despite the fact that the softness in Phil's eyes as he gave it to him almost made him burst into tears right there and then.
After what seems like the hundredth press of the salve against his marred skin, Phil drops the reddened rag onto the nearby table with a sigh.
"All done. Let me wrap it up, then I'll leave you to it." Phil comments, tone quiet as if not to break the silence that's fallen over them like a spell. All Ranboo can do is nod.
Phil's hands are ever so careful as he wraps a clean strip of cloth around his arm, his gentle but quick movements, so worringly practiced, remind him that the man taking care of him is not only a friend, but also a strong fighter. Ranboo wonders how many times he's had to do this for his friends, how long it took him to learn how to patch his teammates up.
"There we go. Good as new." Ranboo chuckles as the man lightly pats the binding, feeling definitely not good as new, but it's still a start. Better than nothing. Better than how he was before Phil arrived - what had he been doing? It probably wasn't that important.
Phil stands with a groan, stretching his arms over his head, and despite how tired he looks for a moment he immediately goes right back to smiling reassuringly.
"I'm gonna go grab some more wood, since I'll start working on the dogs' house tomorrow. You can sleep here for now. Nobody should disturb you." Phil comments, to which Ranboo shoots upward, feeling suddenly irrationally anxious about being left alone - he takes a deep breath, and forcers himself to remember that this is fine , this is safe , here is safe .
With one hand picking at the bandage absent-mindedly, gratitude stutters out of his mouth.
"Thank you, Phi. For- for everything. I really appreciate it."
The man's eyes soften again, one hand reaching out to pat his non-injured shoulder, and once again Ranboo feels a clump forming inside his throat.
"Anytime, Ranboo. If you need anything, you can count on me. You can count on us."
Unable to look him in the eyes - he knows what he will see, and he doesn't know what he will do with that - he nods again. A split second later, a small, traitorous, sniffle leaves him, and the hand on his shoulder goes impossibly still.
"Aw, mate ." The hand gently brings him forward and Ranboo lets himself be led, as Phil takes a quick step forward to close the gap between the two of them, circling his other arm around him.
And it's a bit silly, with Ranboo being lanky and so much taller, with how he's bending so that his head can rest next to Phil's as the man lightly scratches at his scalp, and Phil's other arm is doing its best to avoid hitting his injured side.
Still, as Ranboo does his best to silently cry into the man's shoulder, purple tears running down his cheeks and probably staining Phil's shirt, gripping at his cloak with both hands, it's one of the best hugs he can remember getting.
Not that he remembers getting other hugs, but that's a whole another problem.
By the time Ranboo manages to calm down, he is exhausted.
He's shaking a bit, he doesn't know if from tiredness, coldness, or a mixture of the two, and Phil let him go with the promise that he'll be back soon.
When the door closes, Ranboo considers sleeping on the couch for a moment before deciding that he's not going to try to fit inside that - he is way too tired for that.
So he struggles up the ladder to the upper floor, which he's never visited, in hope of finding a bed.
And at least one thing goes right for him that day, since he climbs up and is immediately greeted by an extremely big and soft looking bed, with plenty covers piled onto it - he is for sure not going to feel cold tonight.
He settles under the covers and the instant his head hits the pillow he falls asleep.
Technoblade has been having a good day.
Everything went according to plan: L'Manburg is gone, the withers have been unleashed, tnt rained from the sky and both him and Phil are safe. He even managed to get his trident back!
All things considered, there have been only successes!
His eyes catch on the vacant space where the cobblestone atrocity no longer resides, and his steps falter.
He shakes his head.
Only successes.
Still, a job well done is a job well done, so the only thing on Techno's mind at the moment is sleep.
Which is why, the moment he finishes climbing the stairs to his bedroom, he is severely disappointed in finding his bed already occupied.
Be taps his foot on the floor once. He is not going to get mad at this.
" Phil, why is there a child sleeping in my bed?" Techno definitely does not make sure his communicator is on silent before sending his message to Phil.
A chorus of cooing and exclamations of Ranboo! keeps him company ad he waits for Phil to answer him.
" Oops!" Comes the ever helpful reply, and Techno bites his tongue over the groan that threatens to spill over.
" He needs a place to stay! I figured he'd sleep on the couch!" The man adds, and Techno can imagine him laughing to himself.
Phil and his damned soft spot for lost kids, Techno thinks, as he subconsciously starts to tuck the half-enderman in.
He's halfway through the process when he realises what he's doing, hands stilling in shock - and partial anger, even though that's all directed at himself. But alas, Techno had never been one to half-ass things, so he finished making sure that Ranboo is properly under the covers.
He then grabs a spare blanket and makes his way downstairs. He supposes the couch isn't that bad of an option.