The Egg tries to get into Technoblade's mind only to discover it's already occupied. The Blood God is not pleased with having its favored conduit encroached upon. Meanwhile, Techno finds out just how terrible it can be to have not one but two divine beings messing around in your head.
Requested by SelcouthAbditory and based on that stream where the egg tried to get into Techno's mind only to find the crab rave meme going on in there. I made it angsty though
"Do you hear the words the Egg speaks to you?"
"Uh..." Technoblade hesitated. Chat was already agitated over the whole ordeal, rising in pitch and urgency from the moment Badboyhalo took him down to the cratered ruins of the city. Their fervor had only increased at the sight of that which was apparently supposed to be an egg, though Techno wouldn't say it looked like one to him. "Maybe? It's kind of hard to say."
There were voices in his head, surely. But it wasn't like he could distinguish the ones already there from any new additions he got since coming down here. He couldn't even distinguish them from each other most of the time. The sole reason Technoblade could know the Egg had spoken to him at all was for the difference in its timbre, the uniqueness of its chime as it called on him. The only comparison that fits is when you listened to an orchestra and a new instrument joined the ensemble. You could tell it hadn't been there before, yet find it impossible to single out or separate from the rest, swallowed up in a musical tide.
The Egg's whispers felt like that. Technoblade could not muster a comprehension for its words when it was drowned out by a chorus of cries much louder than itself, gathering together to form familiar phrases and demands. He shrugged.
Puffy gave him a sharp glance as if she was trying to discern his truthfulness. If she had known Technoblade better she would have known he saw no reason to lie about this. Badboyhalo's face fell in disappointment for a glimpse, red eyes narrowing at the both of them. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual overly-friendly demeanor.
The Egg continued to speak to him and Technoblade continued not to hear.
At night he dreamt he was standing in a pit, an unnatural dark emptiness that stretched out in all directions. Around either of his wrists was wound a thin thread.
The one that glowed bright red in hues of freshly spilled blood was comfortable, well-acquainted. Maybe not as if it inherently belonged there – unable to shed its being as a foreign influence – but as if it had been there for such a long time that it might as well not matter. It had been there since birth, since dawn. Technoblade did not feel ill at ease with it; even as his movements made it cut into his skin and thrummed the thread with life.
The other gave off faint flickers of dark crimson while it pinched into his flesh and bloodstream. It pulled and wrenched and would tear him apart to get what it wanted. It was not above destroying that which was refused. Where it touched him, his skin felt numb and frozen. Felt all kinds of wrong. Technoblade shook his arm but it stuck to him like a moth to a flame, intrigued by the enigma.
When both threads tugged at the same time it hurt beyond what words could describe.
Technoblade woke up feeling on edge, though he could not remember what his nightmare had been about.
How presumptuous, to think it can lay claim to that which has already been avowed
How imperious, to think it could not have its chosen wrenched away from it easily
Chat did not calm down.
They weren't being as loud as Techno knew they could be and by extension not half as annoying to tune out. But he couldn't remember if they had ever stayed this energetic for such a length of time. Usually they dithered, came and went as waves do. They spoke up when they saw something interesting or worth mentioning – interesting or worth mentioning to Chat could mean a lot of things though. From diamonds he missed and mobs they wanted him to kill, to something as simple as a cow they thought particularly adorable and begged him to fawn over. Yeah, Techno did not get that either.
When blood was spilled they swelled their crescendo without fail. But at other times they simmered away too. Never disappearing completely, just content to be reduced to the faintest static, a whisper so unobtrusive Techno could mistake it for the rustling of the wind.
This time they stayed active, tugging at his attention insistently. Their voices were scattered and Technoblade couldn't tell what it was they wanted. A small speck of concern ignited within him. He wasn't used to them being this incomprehensible except in moments of extreme bloodlust, when all rationality drained from them. They wanted to tell him something but weren't able to.
He pinched at the bridge of his nose, feeling like there was some kind of mental block up there keeping him from connecting with them. Which was... worrying.
"Bad day?" Phil asked, voice low and airy. But the underlying inflection meant he had noticed something was amiss and was giving Technoblade an opportunity to confide in him of his own volition before Phil would shift into outright 'anxious dad-friend mode'.
"I don't know," Techno answered truthfully. The start of a serious migraine was brewing beneath the surface of his skull.
Phil took a step closer, his hand coming up to rest along the base of Techno's neck, pressing lightly into his spine. The pressure helped sometimes. "Are they being loud?"
"Nah, just confusing. Or confused."
He could hear their buzzing increase at his statement, angry. They probably took offense to him calling them confused and Technoblade snorted. "What do you want from me then?" he asked Chat, but was only met with their typical responses, one-word replies and non-sensical ranting. They grew more frustrated at not being able to deliver their message. "I think something is wrong with them," he told Phil.
Phil's brow creased in thought. Technoblade decided to go to bed early for a change. Maybe he could sleep this off, or at least ignore it until it went away on its own.
The thread had grown tighter, ran deeper, looped around more often. It crawled up his arm.
Technoblade stared at it before giving it a sharp nudge with one finger, sensing the resonance all the way to his head from where it connected. Where he expected there to be pain, there came none. In fact, it felt almost nice, almost comfortable. Fuzzy and warm like a heated blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a cold winter night.
It felt oppressive in that same way too, smothering. A weight that pushed down and distracted you with a false promise of tranquility, that it would sway your will for you. All you had to do was give in and let go. It whispered at him, sweet words on how easy it would be to obey it.
He jolted back, partly in revulsion at the syrupy sensation of the thread's influence and partly because of the sharp twang of pain the other one had caused as his attention shifted. Technoblade stared at it awkwardly, not knowing what it wanted from him.
He woke up with that promised migraine in full swing.
Niki waved her hand in front of his face, a faint smile pulling at her lips. "Technoblade, are you listening to me?"
"Hm?" He blinked, finding her standing on the tips of her toes staring at him. "What?"
She laughed with ease, shrugging his inattention off. Niki was probably used to people not listening to her, which Technoblade could not say he approved of but he had literally just been doing the same so maybe that'd make him a hypocrite. He couldn't even pinpoint where his mind had strayed.
He had been showing her around their tundra base some after the Syndicate meeting, just in case it ever became handy for her to know her way around. Besides, Phil had already started inviting her over for afternoon tea and dinner, she'd need to be able to find his front door.
One moment he had been talking with Niki about the turtle farm and how difficult it had been to set up in the tundra, the next moment several minutes had passed and Techno had no idea what had happened in between.
"You were," she teased. "You were totally zoning out on me."
He huffed in exaggerated offense. "I was tactically deliberating, there's a difference." Niki didn't push the subject and Technoblade was glad not to either.
And when he sat on his bed that night, unable to sleep and jittery to his core, he realized he couldn't remember large chunks of what he had done that day.
The thread was pulling and he pulled back.
Fire ran through his veins, hot oil searing into every nook and cranny it could find. It promised him such wondrous things, a proverbial Midas touch that would have everything turn to gold beneath his fingers.
But Technoblade remembered how Midas starved in his palace of aureate fruit.
When it spoke they screamed and when they screamed it roared and his head was about to split open.
The thread dug deeper, willing to bring him to his knees.
How long before it breaks
how quick we rebuilt it from blood and dust
He woke up from a fever dream, disoriented and alone.
Truly alone. Technoblade panicked when he realized he couldn't hear Chat at all. It had been so long he had forgotten how hollow that silence sounded, or more likely he had never known true silence at all. But in that very blink, he could only hear his own heartbeat hammering away at his ribcage and it frightened him.
They weren't gone gone though. They were inside his head hammering at the walls keeping them in, tearing down the foundation and it hurt, incapacitating him. Techno tried to get out of bed, only managing to pathetically stumble onto his legs and collapsed onto the floor. The cheerful chime was there above all else, not speaking but thrumming in understanding and asking him to let go.
Telling him he could choose to lock them out forever and then this new thread would keep him safe and sound in its embrace.
The pounding increased in response, urging him until bile was rising in his throat. His eyes were open but Techno couldn't see anything beyond red. He needed it to stop.
It could get them to stop if he allowed it to.
Technoblade tried getting up only to slam his head into his desk, growling weakly at the rush being swallowed by pain already overwhelming, but it ground him. It made him focus barely enough for something else to slip through the haze.
Renew, it told him simply. Seal the contract and sever the leash.
He fumbled for anything sharp enough to do the job, his sword kept close to the bed suddenly seeming an unsurpassable distance away. But an axe was closer, sat near the forge where Technoblade had been working on it. He crawled towards it, feeling the thread's pull on him. Wrapped around his neck it was choking him.
Barely breathing, he was able to reach for the hilt.
Technoblade dragged the sharp edge along the palm of his hand, slicing deeper into the skin than he intended but hopefully that only meant it would work quicker. Blood welled up fast and made his grip slick as he switched the weapon to the other hand and repeated the action on the opposite side. Pressing both wounds together, he closed his eyes.
He had only done this once or twice before – the ritual was best avoided if he could help it, a last resort with dangerous consequences Technoblade loathed to find out about – which meant he had to concentrate hard on recalling the words. The correctness mattered less, he had to fix the intention behind it.
"Blood of the covenant spilled," he said, feeling it start to burn white-hot with heat on being invoked. It stained and tore the skin of his fingers. "Make me a conduit to bend your will, a vessel to carry your burdens, and a warrior to win your wars."
Not the exact citation, but close enough to strengthen the bond. He could feel it sink into his bones heavily, the dense feeling of fog lifting from his brain as they were allowed entrance to it once more. Chat wasted no time breaking out in hysterics, which in Technoblade's current state only made him curl up tighter and wince in pain.
The thread had gone slack and pliant, wrenching loose easily under their renewed efforts.
Technosupport! They spammed the word over and over until it had lost its meaning.
"Yeah, it's good to have you guys back," Technoblade granted, chest full of almost affection directed at them despite the pain. He stayed on the floor for a while, lacking the strength to try and get up.
With their gentle echoes returned to his mind, he finally felt like himself again.