Swallow Your Affection

House Arrest

The next day's sun shone through the window.

Even with your eyes closed you could feel the light against your irises. Warm, warm light- blinding.

You refused to open your eyes.

The crude fleece bed you were huddled into made your back hurt- but regardless you lay there.

Traveling took more out of you then you thought- and not a single inch of you wanted to move to get up.

Faintly you heard footsteps upstairs, accompanied by the dragging of feathers. Phil.

He was up.

Didn't mean you had to be yet.

Even if the sun was seeping in through the windows.

The creaking of a ladder began, and soon Phil's puttering footsteps were moving around the bottom floor.

A chest opened, and then closed, and then another chest got rifled through. Then the warped noise of an ender chest- and then a barrel.

Gods.

What was Phil doing???

Did he not see you sleeping?

In the very same room?

You peek an eye open, catching sight of his figure- scowling as he opened another chest and just started-

Digging around for stuff.

Loudly.

You've had enough.

"...Phillll....-" when he turns around, you shut your mouth and squint harder at him.

"Mornin' mate!" Is his good natured reply, "Hope ya got plenty of rest- cause we have a long journey."

No, you did not get plenty of rest.

You saw Tubbo, met Ranboo- then loitered around Phil's bottom floor because you couldn't fall asleep.

Rather then answer Phil, you bury yourself under the fleece. Fleece that barely acted as a blanket.

A string of cackles comes from the winged man- and then a few caws from the surrounding room.

What?

You peek out again- and of course.

Phil had a few crows hanging around.

A singular crow was nestled into some of your fleece- while a lot were scattered on the windowsill.

Softly you hear him speak to one of them, a soft chiding tone of voice. One that you tuned out to try and go back to sleep.

"I really want to organize my chests..." He says idly, a few caws answering in reply, "No no- you chaotic shits- that's not a good idea."

Eventually, with enough tuning out, Phil's soft chattering turns to white noise.

A gentle patter sounded on the roof- the windows growing dimmer. It was raining. And even that seemed to help lull you back to sleep.

Until a harsh and crude knocking sounded on the door. Proceeded by a bell getting furiously rung.

A bunch of shouting came from the other side of the door- Tubbo's voice the most notable. Yells and yells- most sounding exagerated- and most just the simple call of 'PHIILLL'.

You angrily kept your eyes closed- hearing Phil cackle.

Whoever was ringing it refused to stop- even while Phil strut over to the door- swinging it open with a, "Yes hello- Jesus Christ- HELLO-"