P I N G S :
*deep inhale*
⚠️ Trigger Warning ⚠️- Language
Chapter 3 - POV : Philza
Two weeks later, we had gotten Technoblade settled into our home. We ended up having to put him in the same room as Tommy, but neither child involved seemed to dislike this. In fact, all three kids were getting along great. It was as if Technoblade had been their sibling the entire time.
I was outside, watching Tommy and Techno roam around in the fields. It was a clear, sunny day. The sun’s rays gently warmed the field, and the cool breeze kept things even, making the grass and flowers sway in a hypnotic manner. Techno had told me that they were hunting for bugs and other small animals to keep as pets. I was glad that they were so excited about it, but I wasn’t sure how to break the news that there were no animals for at least five miles in every direction.
As I sat there in my lounge chair, onlooking everything, Wilbur came up to me. “Hey Dad?” he asked.
I stood up and turned to him. “What is it, Wil?”
He hesitated, but I could tell that something was bothering him. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no,” he said, a distant look on his face. “I was just wondering…” He paused, as if trying to figure out how to phrase his question. “How exactly did I do the thing with the guitar on the day we met Techno? When I started playing, it was like second nature for me.And then the strange glow and the animals and stuff…how is that even possible?”
I sighed, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Wil, even I’m not exactly sure,” I confided, “but all I know is that when you picked up the guitar and started to play, some sort of hidden talent emerged. Maybe it’s genetic, because a lot of our ancestors also had unique abilities.”
He perked up. “Really?” he inquired. “Like what?”
I laughed as he slightly bounced up and down. He did that every time he got excited. His eyes shone with curiosity. I ruffled his hair and beckoned for us to sit. He plopped down into the grass.
“Well,” I began. “Your grandfather had the power to summon lightning. His mother was able to speak to animals, and her cousin was a shapeshifter. I could go on and on, but we’d be here all day.”
Wilbur seemed to be ecstatic. “Dadza, do you have a special power?”
I chucked. “Yes, Wil, I do.”
He squealed. “What is it?”
I gestured to my crimson wings. “I have the power of flight.”
He cocked his head. “That’s it?” He looked disappointed.
“I wasn’t done,” I told him. “I can also pull a specific kind of feather out of my plumage that will take the form of a sword.” To prove this, I stood and reached for the small of my back, where the wings sprouted. Then, I took one of the feathers that was right at the base out and showed it to him. Immediately, it began to change form until I was holding a blood red five-foot sword with a leather handle.
Wilbur’s jaw dropped. “Awesome,” he gasped.
I smiled warmly, transforming the sword back into a feather and carefully attaching it back to my wings. “Now, you should go play with your brothers. They seem to be losing steam.” I leaned in. “Maybe if we can wear them out, we’ll have a quiet afternoon.” He laughed, seeming to like this idea.
“Okay, Dad,” he replied, already heading in their direction. “Love you!”
“Love you, too,” I said, heart warming.
Moments later, Tommy screamed. I leaped out of my chair and rushed over to him. “What happened?” I asked urgently.
“He got stung by a bee,” Techno told me.
“Well, he kind of deserved it,” Wilbur huffed. “He was provoking it.”
“Let me see, Tommy,” I said calmly. He extended his hand, and I saw that the stinger was deeply embedded in his palm.
I accidentally brushed my finger over it, and he winced. “Damn it,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Now, now, Tommy,” I scolded him. “We’ve had this conversation. If you’re going to swear, go big or go home.”
He nodded. “Can I try again?” I nodded once, accidentally poking the stinger once again. Well, he thought it was accidental. “Son of a bitch!” he hissed.
“There we go,” I said in satisfaction. I know. Parent of the Year moment.
All of a sudden, a swarm of bees formed about five hundred meters away from us. “Uh, Dadza?” Wilbur asked nervously. “Maybe we should run. They look angry.”
He was right. The bees looked absolutely furious. “Shit,” I whispered.
“What did you say?” Technoblade asked.
“Nothing,” I lied. “We shouldn’t run until they get closer.”
They got closer. A lot closer. Within seconds, the swarm was upon us. Before any of us could get stung to death, a piercing taxicab whistle rippled through the field. To my bewilderment, the bees backed off. A figure emerged from the bush. He was wearing a pair of light blue overalls over a brown and yellow t-shirt. He had curly brown hair and deep blue eyes almost the same shade as the ocean. His shoes were simple black-and-white lace-ups, but apparently he had drawn pictures of cartoon bees all over them. It was obvious that he had been the source of the noise.
He approached the bees. “Now, now!” he huffed, his British accent almost the same as Wilbur’s. “That was completely uncalled for! Yes, the one with the red and white shirt provoked one of you, but does that really mean that it’s okay to kill all four of them? They didn’t do anything wrong!” He paused. “But if you’re looking for someone to bother, Dream’s house is in that direction.” He pointed northwest. The bees seemed to make a motion similar to a nod, then flew off in the direction that the stranger had pointed.
He brushed off his overalls. “Well, sorry about that,” he apologized, walking toward us. “Bees are so tempermental sometimes.”
Tommy looked flabbergasted. “Who…where…how?” He couldn’t even form a sentence.
“Before I get into that,” the stranger said, “would someone mind telling me where I am?”