For the prompts: "It's not your fault.", concussion, seizure, and "If you weren't around, I'd be long dead by now."
There is a saying about frying pans and fire.
The new place is objectively nicer than the traffickers' base. They've been upgraded from tiny cells and winding hallways and a lack of windows to a courtyard and a proper dorm (Tango refuses to call it a stable) and marble architecture. He remembers another proverb about gilded cages. That's kind of what this feels like.
They were handed new clothes and were allowed to take a bath though.
Tango isn't really big on water, but it was nice to clean up a little bit. The woman scowled when she saw their brand marks, mumbling something about gaudy displays of possession under her breath. Their new clothes have long sleeves and a thin layer of felt on the inside. They're honestly rather nice, a thought that makes Tango feel a little weird because calling any part of this nice is completely off the table, thank you very much! However, since they're allowed to spend time outdoors, warm clothes are appreciated. The woman's mansion reminds Tango vaguely of the castles Scar sometimes built, in a way that is aching and raw.
"You're good at this," he says.
He is sitting in the dirt, catching his breath for a moment. Tango is physically active enough not to get winded easily, but farming is one of those things he'd usually make into an automated process. He's also not very good at it. Techno leans on his tool, smirking down at him.
"Doesn't take much to be good at farmin'," he says.
"Yeah?" Tango leans back on his palms and looks up at the sky. Seeing the clouds again is nice too. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're enjoying yourself."
"I am enjoying myself."
Tango chuckles. "We're kidnapped and you're enjoying yourself? Yeah, that makes total sense."
"I'm enjoying the farming, not the kidnapping," Techno says flatly. He indicates his head in a wordless signal that Tango should get up. One of the handlers is watching them. The woman owns a lot of hybrids. And she has a lot of servants too, who are one rung higher up the hierarchical ladder. "Though honestly, not the worst kidnapping I've been through. They didn't take my horse hostage this time."
"That's-" Tango stops to laugh incredulously. "No, that would do it." He picks up one of the farming tools by its wooden handle. "Can I be honest with you? Your server sounds kind of terrible."
"Not my server," Techno answers. "Just the one I live on. But yeah."
Servers can be a complicated topic. Each one is like a little tiny world, held in the palm of an admin's hand. There are networks, and connections, and public servers are subject to a vast set of rules that can make your head spin trying to keep track of them all. But private servers? Cesspools of mystery. Even admins can vary in how much control they have over their server, and how they decide to conduct themselves to their members. Tango hears most of them are extremely pleasant. He never had to complain about Xisuma. But he also knows there are servers with full-blown wars, politics, all that good stuff. Or bad stuff. Definitely bad stuff.
"Have you considered moving?" he asks.
"Eh, most public servers aren't my style. And Hypixel isn't really a place you live permanently," Techno says.
"What about making your own?" Making your own small-scale server is easy enough. Tango isn't talking about sprawling hardcore servers or anything, more like the pocket dimensions they use as testing worlds. You don't even need to be an admin to make them.
"Sounds boring," Techno shrugs.
Tango never really thought about it too deeply, but he supposes that's true. He wouldn't like being stuck in his redstone testing world forever, isolated from everyone and everything. Hanging out with his friends is half the fun. But he's also speaking from a position fortunate enough where he's got an invite into a safe, smaller-sized private server where people have ample supplies and don't fight over stuff. Techno sounds like he's not always had the best luck in that regard.
"Maybe you should just move to Hermitcraft," Tango says, pushing the metal end of his tool into the ground.
Techno snorts in disbelief. Before Tango can continue talking, a shrill whistling sound rings out over the courtyard. Other hybrids quickly throw down their tools, eager to go in for food and sleep after working all day. Techno straightens his spine, sharing a meaningful glance with Tango. Since they arrived here two days ago, they've been working on an escape plan non-stop. And they're pretty close to achieving something.
While all the other hybrids file inside, followed by most handlers, Techno also walks to the gate. Tango stays, picking up rakes and shovels from the ground. Before long, it's only one handler at the gate, Techno himself who is standing near them, and then Tango picking up random tools.
"Hey! You!" the handler calls out to Tango. "Didn't you hear the signal to go inside?"
Tango pulls his shoulders up a little higher, ears flattening. "Oh, yeah! I was just trying to-" He plays at meekness. The handler rolls their eyes in annoyance and starts to walk over to him. Their strides are a little faster than Tango anticipated. They're at his side in a blink, grabbing his wrist. To stall for time, Tango slightly digs his heels into the ground.
"I told you to come along." It's minutely better than being pulled around by his tail but Tango really is sick of all the manhandling over the past few days. He puts up a small amount of resistance, which does make the handler growl and tug harder but distracts them sufficiently from what Tango doesn't want them to notice.
When they get to the gate, Techno is innocently standing there with his hands behind his back.
"Back to the stables, both of you," the handler growls, pushing Tango at Techno. They nod.
"And?" Tango asks, as soon as they're out of earshot, rubbing his aching wrist with one hand.
"It seems feasible," Techno says. "We would just need to get some stuff."
"Like what?"
"A trowel would help." Techno eyes the handlers behind them, making sure they're too far back to hear. "Maybe a pair of pruning shears to use as a weapon, if we can get away with it."
Tango doesn't manage to muster up a lot of pretty imagery at the thought of trying to fight somebody with a shear, but whatever works, right? He'd do just about anything to get out of this place. "So what's the plan?"
Techno almost raises an eyebrow at his enthusiasm. "Theft?"
"Sure, but… Without a plan? That's a little uncreative." Tango stops talking as they reach the 'stable'. Calling it that feels icky to him, and not just because the word 'stable' evokes a place where animals are kept. The room is more like a barrack, or a dorm room. A sizable stone building at the far edge of the property where the workers sleep and eat.
Tango doesn't know why the woman who bought them has a thing for hybrid slavery specifically. As far as he's aware, the human servants - including the handlers tasked with keeping them in check - are paid and enjoy more freedom. It's probably an endurance thing (and a speciesism thing, but Tango is refusing hard to unpack that right now).
Though, the woman also has a flair for the exotic and rare. She sometimes brings them inside for other people to ogle at. She told some of the handlers to keep an eye on Tango too, since he's the first blaze she's ever owned, she has something planned. Fingers crossed their behinds are on the other side of the server by the time that happens.
In a corner of the room, their beds are pushed together. Kind of like the cell at the trafficker hideout, they seclude themselves from the other hybrids around, not all of them too keen on interacting. A lot seem content to keep their heads down and mumble that life isn't too bad, silently hoping that something will change without them needing to put their relative peace on the line for it.
"What's your idea of a creative plan then?" Techno asks once they're at their spot, picking up the thread of the conversation effortlessly where they left off earlier.
"I dunno," Tango says with a shrug. "Use something to distract the handlers, maybe? A diversion."
Techno sits down with a sigh. Tango notices he's left his food untouched tonight, but decides not to mention it. "Sounds risky."
"Riskier than stealing from them while hoping they look the other way?"
"There's only about five of them watching and over a dozen of us, their eyes can't be everywhere at once." Techno does seem slightly unsure about that. "Doing something to distract them will draw attention."
"I still think we should do it," Tango insists. "I should do it. I mean, if it weren't for me, you'd have gotten out already-" A flick to this forehead makes him wince. By the time Tango looks up, Techno has already pulled his arm back.
"Don't spend energy on theoreticals, it wears you out," Techno says. He pulls up his legs to lie down on the cot, wincing a little at the wound in his lower back. "It's not your fault what happened."
"I guess," Tango mutters.
But it still keeps turning in his head, over and over, long after he is supposed to fall asleep. He has to do something to make up for it.
Not a day has gone by since they arrived here that Techno hasn't woken up with a pounding headache.
This isn't exactly new territory for him, but it's annoying all the same. Their 'owner' even took care of their injuries when they arrived. She mainly seemed concerned with the brand mark, to be frank. However, the wound on Techno's temple and his back from where the arrow struck him both got cleaned out and bandaged. They haven't stopped hurting or anything. He'll just take what he can get.
Even if what he can get is the absolute minimum of medical care.
The courtyard they're being kept in is about thirty feet wide in each direction, with large patches of earth in the middle for farming, which is what the hybrids are mainly supposed to keep busy with. They're only called inside on specific occasions, and usually the rarer ones or the ones their owner values more. Techno is very grateful not to count himself among that lot.
Techno tills the ground, waiting patiently for whatever Tango has in mind for a distraction.
He'll admit he's not entirely fond of the idea, but he'll also admit his plan of waiting until nobody is looking in his direction wasn't the most soundproof. He knows Tango is beating himself up over being the reason Techno did not escape from the cart during transport. Never mind there was a lot more going on than just that back then.
This escape attempt will be better, and if this goes off without a hitch they'll have some tools with them which could be useful. The courtyard is fenced in on all sides, but there are a few spots where Techno thinks scaling the wall is possible. The problem remains the shock collars. They're rigged up to go off if the hybrids try to leave a certain perimeter, they were told as much when they got here.
The woman said it as if it was a boast, and not her showing her hand thus leading them to know exactly what they are dealing with. Rookie mistake.
"Ready?" Tango asks, snapping Techno out of his daze. He blinks for a few sluggish seconds, forcing his vision to focus.
"Not waitin' for a parade," he mumbles back. Tango looks at him a little funny. Techno thinks he stole the saying from Phil, but he doesn't quite remember. Maybe he's saying it wrong.
Scrunching his eyes when the sunlight burns them, Techno waits until his skull has stopped feeling as if it's trying to cave in on his brain. By the time he manages that, Tango is already halfway across the courtyard. Techno watches him pull on some other hybrid's sleeve, then rear back and punch the other guy.
That's the distraction?
Techno almost laughs, feeling maybe a tiny smidgen bad for it because Tango does get sucker-punched almost immediately in return. Techno winces. That's gotta hurt. It kind of works as a diversion though, because two handlers instantly shoot towards the ruckus and all the others are looking that direction too. Techno grabs the rake he's holding firmly in both hands and breaks it over his knee. The splintered wood turns into two medium-sized poles. He quickly throws them in a corner of the courtyard, the one nearest the stable building. They can grab it on their way out. Now they just need a trowel to dig through the decaying bricks they found earlier and-
A swell of nausea rushes over Techno as he's walking back.
The sick feeling goes accompanied by more pounding between his temples, so it might be another migraine. Techno has those often, and even more so if he's had his head smacked recently. He slows his pace, swallowing the sudden amount of saliva in his mouth. He might be about to puke. Glancing ahead, the mock fight is pretty much broken up and it doesn't look like he'll have a lot more time to fly under the radar. If he wants to make use of the distraction, he'll have to be quick.
Except then, with the next step, a sharp stab of pain seems to shoot all the way from the ground up his spine and into the base of his neck.
Techno lets out a strangled gasp equal parts pain and surprise. He feels his bottom eyelid twitch involuntarily before that sensation also gets swallowed up by something heavy and dark that settles over everything else.
By the time he manages to breathe again, it's a stuttering inhale that shakes his ribcage. He's blinking up at several faces over him, and at least one person hovering by his side. Something is shoved under his neck, uncomfortably lumpy. His mouth tastes like acid. And his entire body hurts, muscles all stretched out from the fatigue.
Did he just-
"Can you hear me?" an unfamiliar voice asks. Techno blinks a few more times to get it to settle, to sink into his brain. Why does it sound like it's coming from miles away when he can see the woman's lips moving right next to him?
"Y-yeah?" Techno tries. He sounds hoarse.
"Good." She looks up at one of the handlers. "I don't think it was anything serious, he'll be fine." Techno finally recognizes her as one of the other hybrids, also a piglin he thinks. She has been here for a very long time, but seems kind enough. She's often the one making sure everybody gets their food and blankets and stuff. Techno doesn't trust her in the slightest. She seems a little too complacent with the whole 'being owned like property' thing. If she knew they were planning to escape, she'd definitely tell on them.
Techno furrows his brow a little at her calling a seizure 'nothing serious'.
But he doesn't correct them either, especially as one of the handlers grabs his elbow to yank him upright. "Get into the stable and walk it off then, we can't have this shit."
Techno would love to tell them that seizures are hardly a voluntary thing. He's not falling to the ground convulsing for fun or anything. Once more he decides to hold his tongue. One handler follows him to the stable and watches him lie down on his cot. Techno didn't plan on falling asleep, but when he closes his eyes, he feels exhaustion seep in truly. His body aches all over and his head isn't doing much better, so a light nap shouldn't hurt.
He wakes up to Tango shaking him.
Techno hisses, the shaking aggravating how much he still hurts. Tango sits back on his haunches, looking at him with a sympathetic expression. He has a huge bruise on the side of his cheek, the swelling creeping a little below his left eye and making it look squinty.
"Sorry, just checking you're not dead. Took you a bit to wake up," he says. The tone is light enough to carry the joke, even if Techno can sense the underlying anxiety.
"My frontal lobe is basically a milkshake at this point," Techno retorts. A hyperbole, yet one that certainly feels accurate. They seemed a lot more concerned with fixing up their external wounds when they arrived. He wouldn't be surprised if he had brain damage at this point.
Concerning, and something Techno really rather not think too deeply about. Partly because it hurts to think right now and partly because walking away from this whole kidnapping thing with a permanent reminder would upset him.
"Well, at least your distraction was a lot better than mine so…" Tango trails off there.
"You got the stuff?" Techno asks.
The blaze smiles, tail wagging. "I got the stuff."
Silver linings. Techno's unplanned traumatic brain injury can have an upside after all. He's glad Tango didn't let himself be blinded by worry and took the opportunity to secure their escape rather than fuss over Techno.
Except, the fussing can still begin.
"Do you need anything?" Tango asks. "Food, water? I could fight another guy for their pillow if you want an extra one."
Techno shakes his head with a laugh, regretting the motion when that only makes him feel more unsteady. "I'm fine, really."
"I'm serious," Tango presses. "You uh, you don't look too hot."
"Thanks." Techno rubs at his face, the texture of his skin unpleasantly flaky. But he still hasn't puked, he thinks. If he can't keep anything down, he'll rapidly get too weak to do much. "You don't need to worry about me."
"Wha- Seriously?" Tango says a little louder, and looking genuinely affronted. "If you weren't around, I'd be long dead by now. You do realize that, right?"
"So?" Techno asks.
"So I'm trying to return the favor because I don't want you to die either. You're my friend!"
It sits a little awkwardly between them. Techno thinks it's the most frank and outright confession of friendship they've had so far, and maybe the most outright confession of friendship Techno has ever taken part in since he usually lets his actions speak for themselves. They both must have known for a while this was more than an allyship out of convenience. Still, to have it said out loud…
"I'm not dying," Techno decides to answer. "Unless our grand escape tomorrow goes horribly wrong. Then I'll probably die of embarrassment with how much effort we've put into it."
Tango sacks back into his own cot with a laugh at his poor attempt at humor, but the tension drains from his body.
Techno thinks that's a good sign of friendship too.