Chapter Text
He usually doesn't let it get this bad.
The voices plague his mind, unable to hear his own thoughts in the ruckus, Technoblade stumbles over to the kitchen. Cool water meets his flushed face, the voices soften.
It had been awhile since the voices had been this out of control. Usually, the occasional war or spar allowed him to subtly get blood into his system. Even throughout the quieter years Phil had been there for him, willing to lend a hand, well arm, in his time of need, but the pig hybrid had not seen the man for a while. Phil had initially left to help out Niki at the bakery but had also mentioned wanting more totems. The hybrid had not expected him to be away from this long.
He hopes he returns soon, feeling guilty at the promise that he would take care of himself. As if in response, his eyes flutter closed.
---
Technoblade groans as light shines against his closed eyes, waking up from his slumber.
Why does his back hurt so much?
Oh.
Upon gaining his senses the hybrid realises he is lying on the kitchen floor. He must have collapsed the night before.
God, he needs to get himself sorted out.
Instead he decides to lie face first on the cold floor. He wishes his consciousness would just disappear into thin air and Phil could just bury him or something when he gets back. That would be inconsiderate to the old man though. He groans into the floorboards, frustrated. How did he even manage to get into this mess in the first place?
Oh yeah... by forgetting to take proper care of himself and instead lounging around reading and caring for his pets more than he was caring for himself. Typical.
After a little a bit of regreting-his-past-choices-and-trying-to-nail-down-when-everything-went-wrong he pulls himself up into a sitting position. His back leaning against the cauldron, cold metal presses through his thin white shirt. Time to consider some options...
Make some normal human food? Won't solve the voices problem and the lack of blood is messing with his human part, so it would probably taste foul.
He could always try animal blood? Although last time that didn't go well…
The cold air cuts through the young hybrid's clothes, his knees freezing in the dense snow. In a frenzy he reaches for a stray rabbit. Its small claws swing randomly in an attempt to loosen the man's grip. However, it is futile. sharp canine teeth meet tough fur. It feels disgusting against his tongue but he digs his teeth futher nonetheless. It’s sour. Putrid. Repulsive. He tries to swallow, desperately wanting the empty feeling in his stomach to be filled and the gross taste to leave his mouth but his attempts are to no avail. He gags at the unpleasant taste and vomit splatters on the snow in front of him. At least his mouth tastes like vomit now instead of that animal. The rabbit disappears into the forest, a trail of blood follows it. It won't survive much longer.
He had been saved by Phil that night. He remembers the feeling of being carried home, bathed and the taste of sweet blood, which had been forced into his mouth. Drinking animal blood is never worth it and that memory is probably the reason why Technoblade refuses meat, usually sticking to his golden carrots and potatoes.
The sound of barking dogs cuts off his train of thought. Is he really going to waste his limited energy feeding his pets? Yes. Yes he is.
---
“Hello Jabber.” Technoblade mumbled, scratching the side of the white dog's head. Its tail wagging happily in response. The man pushes further into the dog house, scattering kibbles as he goes. Usually he would let them go hunting or give them some fresh kill to fight for but he simply doesn't have the time, energy or resources at this moment. “I know guys, I'm sorry.” He shuts the gate of the shack behind him, nearly falling face first into the snow as he climbs back into his house.
His fire died a long time ago and the cold is ruthless, it seeps through the cracks in the walls and attacks every corner of the small cottage. If he didn't die from malnourishment he would definitely die from hyperthermia.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
The voices increase in volume, he is pretty trained in ignoring them but they are getting louder and it's harder to fight them when they are unsustained, and when he is hungry. Shit. He needs to eat.
In desperation he stumbles towards the kitchen, his less shaking weakly. His inability to stand up properly is really hindering his search for food.
He swears under his breath as he rummages hopelessly through his chests, he used to have heaps of golden carrots but he can't seem to find a single one. Gold flashes in his peripheral and his hand reaches into the chest desperately. It meets a juicy apple, which despite sitting in the bottom of a chest is not rotten… He thinks. Eating the golden apple would be a smart choice. It would definitely sustain himself and the absorption bonus might give him enough energy to find someone or think of a plan but then again… is he worth it?
Is any of it worth it?
He eats the apple then what? He finds someone? Attack them? Hindering their life instead of his own. Why does he deserve to live more than them? Does he even deserve the food in the first place?
YOU DON’T DESERVE IT.
EAT THE APPLE. FIND BLOOD. FEED US.
JUST GIVE UP.
The voices contradict and argue within his head. They can't make a decision for him yet they seem to criticise his every move. Desperate for them to shut up he digs his teeth into the golden surface. The voices reply accordingly, but quieter than before, thankfully.
The apple is sweet and the sticky juice drips down his chin and runs across his hands. He chews carefully and swallows, savouring every taste. He bites into the apple again almost straight away, his mind clearing with every bite. Upon finishing the apple, he licks the golden liquid off his hands, thankful for every drop yet not feeling worthy enough for a second piece of fruit.
He needs to leave quickly to take full advantage of the absorption but he should not leave Phil uninformed, he grabs his quill and scrawls hastily on a piece of paper that was laying on the dining room table.
“Things got bad. Tryna find some blood.
- Techno”
He grabs his cloak and exits the cottage hastefully, not wanting to waste another second. The cold air hits him like a brick. He was freezing inside the house so it really shouldn't surprise him that the air is even harsher outside, but it does nonetheless. He swings the cloak around his shoulders and hugs it to his frail body as he steps into the snow. He should have worn his boots but he can't be bothered going back to the house so he pushes forwards.
In a last minute decision he calls upon one of his dogs, Clayson, to follow him. You know? In case he collapses from malnourishment and needs it to go find help. He doesn't know who he’d trust the dog to actually find, considering basically everyone on the server betrayed him. But, whatever. That's a problem for future Technoblade.
Upon reaching the dense forest that surrounds his home it occurs to him that he has no idea where he is going. He pauses. Unsure. Before deciding to just walk with no destination.
It is only when the sun sets that he realises the absurdity of the situation. He could have gone to Snowchester? Ranboo would have understood and even Tubbo might help him out (maybe). He could have even gone to Niki, she would have been willing to lend a hand and might have even known where Phil was, but no. He instead decided to walk with no direction at all. Great, this was going to be fun and not at all stressful.