Enders and Brines

Until There Comes A Day When We Sell Our Souls Away! (Part 7)

Can I Trust You? Should You Trust Me, Too?

WARNING: This chapter contains some descriptions that might make more squeamish people uncomfortable.

This is part 7 of 7

------------------------------------------

Now, Technoblade is not one for crying.

In his twenty something years of life, he has barely ever cried. Not when he found out he had to share a mind with some annoying entity, not when he lost his parents, not when he figured out who killed his parents, not when he left the Nether, not when he accepted his isolation as a necessary evil once he stepped in the Overworld.

But, somehow, he's crying as he holds Sonho's body to his chest.

The fact is, Herobrine is a fucking asshole. He's murderous and he's dangerous, and usually Techno doesn't care because the entity doesn't get to "play" as much as he wants, and the people who tend to aggravate the asshole are usually assholes themselves who deserve a good whacking, but this is the first time he attacks an innocent.

It had been terrifying.

As the original owner of the body, Technoblade has a much easier time taking and keeping control, however this time around he simply could not. He had been locked inside his own mind, forced to watch from the backseat as the maniac almost cut the blonde in half. He could feel the sword in his hands, he could feel the blade cutting through flesh, he could feel the warmth of the blood. But he couldn't stop it from happening. No matter how much he yelled and trashed against the mental bounds, he just couldn't.

It took him all he had to finally gain his body back, and just in time too.

Herobrine had been about to end Sonho's life.

Technoblade is scared.

Even now, as he runs to the inn with the passed out man in his arms, the injuries that made him stop by that village sending wave after wave of pain through his body, he can feel the other, the thing lurking in his head.

He can practically taste his hunger and his wrath.

And he's terrified of what might happen if he loses control even for a second.

Stop freaking out, Techno, he screams at himself as he bursts through the front door of the Inn, not bothering to answer to the surprised exclamations from the few people still awake and around, it can wait until this guy isn't literally dying in your arms.

Or you can let go and watch the show.

Shut up.

You don't need to get involved, piggy, just let the Ender die and we'll continue our happy tale.

"Shut up!" Techno yells, almost loud enough to be heard over the sound of the door of his room closing shut after he kicked it.

Sonho's body is freezing and wet, soaking the sheets of Techno's unused bed quickly, his breathing getting weaker by the second. With shaky hands, Techno rips apart what was left of the blonde's green shirt, taking a sharp breath when the bloodied torso is exposed. He forces himself to calm down again, gulping down a few breaths, before grabbing the first clean fabric he could find, one of the two shirts he brings with him during his travels just in case, to clean around the cut, so he could at least see the damage.

Thankfully, the cut is much shallower than he first thought.

And it seems to very slowly be closing on its own...?