Chapter Text
"He's golden. How is that even possible?" The Phil creature states, staring at Tommy with a possessive want twinkling behind his eyes.
The child shudders, trying to hide in Wilbur's cloak. The seconds stretch out, no one even daring to breathe.
"His name is Tommy." Wilbur offers into the awkward silence.
"Tommy…" The stranger echos, his voice soft and thoughtful. The man says something Tommy can't understand with a chuckle, wagging a finger at Wilbur.
"He's Techno's, not mine!" The brunette protests weakly, not meeting his eye.
"Is he now." The stranger states with a dangerous gleam in his eye. It doesn't sound like a question.
Tommy whimpers in fear, clinging to Wilbur so tightly he can't feel his fingers anymore. Will the god protect him?
The brown piglin is submitting, tilting his head back with a soft whine. That's a good enough answer to his question. The monstrosity is clearly the one in charge. Maybe even the elder.
It doesn't matter if the others like him. If Phil rejects him, or decides to claim him for his own, then it's all been for naught. No one would challenge their elder over a runt. Not even a god. He will find no protection.
The new god's fleshy fingers are reaching for Tommy. It has too many, they bend and curl in an alien way, effortless but oh so wrong.
Each part ends with a razor sharp hoof, weapons extending from its hands. The golden child shies away, squealing in terror.
"Awww, mate, you're okay. I know I know, I'm pretty fucking weird to look at, aren't I? Proper freak of nature." The green clad god states good naturedly, sounding amused.
Tommy couldn't agree more. He's smart enough to not fucking say it to his face, though. Who would be stupid enough to-
"Damn right, old man. The first time I saw you, you nearly gave me a heart attack." The brown piglin pipes in, smirking mischievously.
Wilbur. Wilbur would be stupid enough.
"Oh come on! I was not the first overworlder you'd seen, you brat. I know you were captured by hunters way before that!" The new god exclaims, shrugging off his cloak.
There's a pair of something’s on Phil's back. They're black, fuzzy, alive.They move, briefly stretching out till they take up most of the room. They're- they're wings. But they can't be.
Wings are for chickens! Wings aren't black, they aren't bigger than a hoglin, and they don't grow on people… The limbs fold back up naturally, like they aren't an affront to nature.
"Yeah, and somehow that wasn't half as terrifying as having to see your face for the first time." The brunette replies playfully, as if nothing is wrong. As if the creature he's bantering with isn't an abomination.
"Give him here, Will. Let me get a good look at the kid." Phil orders, holding out his arms expectantly.
The brown piglin responds in the god language, slowly moving to obey.
No no no, he doesn't want to go to Phil! The kid struggles, growling desperately. The man in green ignores the threat, scooping the child up without the slightest hint of hesitation.
The golden piglet whines as a sharp hand reaches for his face. The kid flinches away with a cry. It's going to cut him, rip him to pieces, take his skin!
Something sharp scratches behind his ear, slow and careful. He almost relaxes into the touch, but fear keeps him tense.
It doesn't hurt, but… Techno didn't say Phil would hurt him. He said he would steal him away. He doesn't want to leave! If he has to live as a treasure, then he wants to be Techno's treasure.
The fingers move to his chin, and Tommy lunges before he can even stop to think. His tusks slice into the hard keratin, and then flesh. He bites down as hard as he can, ignoring the sickening sound of cracking.
The stranger lets out a series of screeches. The words are unfamiliar, but the tone is easy enough to place. The god is telling him to let go.
Tommy spits out the hand as quick as he can, careful not to tear with his tusks. He dives for safety. He's pinned in by green fabric. It wraps around him, swaddling him tight and effectively immobilizing him.
Shit, no no no. He's seen countless piglin get tossed into lava for not bringing worthy offerings, for disrespecting the names of the divine. He's pretty fucking sure attacking a god counts as disrespect of some kind.
Phil walks to the wall, pressing a brick till it slots in. There's a loud sound, a rumbling and dull scraping that has the golden child flinching away. He cowers away, pressed his face desperately into the god's chest.
What was that?! It sounds familiar. He's heard it before. The god wall??? The kid dares to peek out, just in time to see the wall finish slotting into place.
A tunnel is now revealed, transitioning from blackstone to nether rack. It stretches upwards as far as Tommy can see. So this is how they fit. They don't live in the wall, but on the other side.
The child squeals, struggling against the wrappings as hard as he can. He's been claimed by Phil. He doesn't want to go. He doesn't like Phil, he's weird. Alien.
But what he wants doesn't matter. He's helpless as the man casually begins the trek upward.
"Um… Phil? Phiiiiiiiiil, you can't - I don't think that's a good idea. Techno told me to not take him out of the bastion." Wilbur calls out from behind them, panic in his tone.
"Oh he'll be fine. Babies need socialization." The green clad god states in a dismissive tone. "Can't get much of that locked in a dusty old bastion, now can we Tommy?" The man asks in a baby talk of a coo, looking down at the piglet.
He's talking at Tommy, not to Tommy. He knows better than to respond. The boy keeps his gaze firmly down at the ground.
"Phil? PHIL! Shit. Techno is going to kill me! Pick me out of his teeth. They'll find my remains scattered across the crimson forest." Wilbur laments, his voice echoing down the stone tunnel as he follows after them.
"Oh stop being morbid, you twat. I'll take the blame. We both know Techno can't say no to me." The blond snarks back, not even slowing down.
He's swayed side to side as they walk, cradled to the man's chest. It's soothing, almost reassuring.
Wait. Where's his chicken? He must have fallen to the ground. They left it behind… Tommy whines softly, hoping the god won't notice. The man looks down at him, something soft behind his eyes.
The creature opens his mouth, and… chuffs at him? The sound is off, like the guy can't chuff properly. But it sounds close enough. It sounds like 'safe-runt-calm'
The tension leaves the golden one, chased away by a wave of contentment. His instincts lie, insisting he's safe. He prefers the calm to the panic, so he just… lets go. He'll get a painful reminder later, when they get wherever they're going.
They quickly gain height, the air growing off and thin. They reach the sky-wall, the indestructible ceiling of rock that withstands the strongest of attacks without even a scratch. Only… there's a hole. In the sky-wall. There's a hole.
Tommy can only stare with wide eyes as he's carried through, held close as the god maneuvers through the gape. Above the indestructible stone is… more space. Far more space than should ever exist.
The boy cranes his neck, trying desperately to see the top. There's only red. Dark red that stretches on forever.
There's … something, resting on top of the sky-wall. Obsidian, carefully crafted into a perfect frame. Purple swirls and wavers within it, otherworldly in its dance. He's only ever seen cracks of the color in crying obsidian, flashes of it in the eyes of an endermen. This doesn't look like eyes, or tears. It looks angry, a rip in the world.
Tommy doesn't want to go in there, he's not allowed. He's heard stories of these doorways, these portal holes. That's the god's domain, where mortals must never tread. Those that go through, rarely come back. Those that do come back, return as zombies mindlessly clinging to life.
Phil sits, settling on top of the sky-wall. The god reaches into his pocket, pulling out a vial of pure liquid gold. The child stares, not sure if he should be scared, or in awe. It's an elixir of the gods.
"I had a feeling I might be bringing someone home today, so I came prepared." The one in a green striped hat declares, holding up the holy concoction triumphantly.
Wilbur raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face.
"Good luck getting him to drink that. It tastes like ass. Ass and grass." The brunette declares with a snort.
Tommy doesn't know what those are, and he doesn't want to find out. He wants to go back to the bastion. He wants Techno…
Phil holds the potion up to his lips. It smells wrong. Like vines, but stronger. Sharper. The child tries to open his mouth, he really does. But he can't. It's going to hurt, he just knows it.
It's liquid gold. He's had hot gold spilled on him before, as a punishment. It hurt so bad, sticking and bubbling. He screamed and screamed until his elder backhanded him to shut him up.
He turns away with a squeal of 'im-sorry please-don't-hurt-me im-good', burying his face in the god's chest. He's being so bad. He has to move, he has to fix it. But he can't, he can't. He's frozen in place, hiding like a bad treasure.
"This won't work as a splash, he has to drink it." The man in a striped hat mutters to himself.
"... What if he ate it?" Wilbur pipes up, beginning to rummage through his coat pockets.
"That… would work, I suppose. What are you up to?" Phil says, caution and curiosity equally present in his tone.
Tommy peeks out from his hiding spot, he has to know what they're doing. The brown piglin pulls out another piece of the golden delicacy from before, holding it up triumphantly. The blonde simply blinks at the god food.
"A… a golden apple? I'm not following, mate." The elder concedes after a few seconds of thought.
"Trust me, he loves these. Give me the potion." The brunette insists, holding out a hand expectantly. Phil gives up the bottle of strange glowing liquid easily.
Wilbur says something in the strange language to Phil, turning away as he reaches into his coat.
The man holding the kid exclaims something, his grip on the boy tightening significantly.
Tommy can feel the razor sharp fingers prick ever so slightly into his skin. It's not enough to make him bleed, not even enough to hurt. But that could change in a heartbeat.
He chuffs his distress, expecting the god to cut him for the sign of weakness. Immediately the hands loosen their grip, freeing him from the swaddle as they cradle him close.
Phil grunts what might be an apology. No, that can't be right. He must be hearing things. A god would never apologize to a runt. That's just wishful thinking…
Seconds later, the crisp sound of a golden apple being cut fills the air. Wilbur turns back around, holding perfect slices of the golden food. Just the sight of them is enough to make Tommy's mouth water.
The man tilts the potion over the slices, dripping it ever so slowly over the godly delicacy. The strange gold is greedily absorbed by the food, leaving none behind.
The god in a green striped hat picks up one of the slices, examining it with intrigue.
"Remarkable. I never would have thought of that." The blonde muses, an impressed look on his face. "Okay now, eat up little one. Yummy yummy apple, all for you." He coos sweetly, trying to coax Tommy into looking.
The child lets himself be turned, giving the air a cautious sniff. The golden food is pressed against his snout. The smell is confusing, a mixture of sweet and sharp.
It's easier to open his mouth this time, and he manages to bite down on the slice. The flavor is just as good as before. He moans happily, savoring the wave of bravery that sweeps over him.
His fear is chased away by that overwhelming sense of invulnerability. He could fight anything right now, even the gods. But why would he? They've been kind. Kinder than any mortal ever has been before.
The golden boy relaxes, watching the rest of the food expectantly. Slowly, the god goes to give him another piece. Too slow. Impatient, Tommy grabs his hand, yanking it the rest of the way to his mouth.
Phil blinks in surprise, his face going blank. The piglet pays him no mind, crunching down on his prize. They let him have the entire apple, one slice at a time.
The mystery potion seems to be doing something. The air gets steadily hotter, pressing down from all sides with a stifling heat. Everything looks dark and blurry, fuzzy around the edges in a very unfamiliar way. He has no idea what it did.
The kid yanks Phil's hand in close to look for more food hidden up his sleeve. The man chuckles, not resisting. Finding no goodies, the golden one takes the chance to have a closer look at the god's freaky hand.
The sharp hooves look more like knives than the ends of fingers. One is cracked where Tommy bit it. The child lays his three fingers against the creature's five. Five fingers. What monstrosity needs five knife fingers?
"Bet you've never seen claws before. Pretty neat, huh?" The stranger in green chuckles, flexing his hand so the claws pop out even farther.
The boy squeaks in surprise, tugging on one to see how far it comes out. Are they detachable? The god gently stops him, pulling his hand away.
The piglet huffs unhappily, annoyed that he can't continue his test. He tries to climb over the man's back, making a grab for a wing. His hooves only manage to graze over the soft fluffy appendages before he’s scooped up.
"Why you little shit! You're shameless! Maybe you are Techno's." Phil barks out in a laugh, holding Tommy out at arms length.
The boy glares grumpily at him, as hard as he can. What does that mean? Of course he's Techno's. The god pays him no mind, turning to the swirling purple doorway.
"Alright. He's good to go." Phil states with a decisive nod.
The child clings close to the god, a spark of fear fighting through the artificial calm. What if he can't get back? He'd never see Techno again. What if it kills him? What if it doesn't? He doesn't want to be a zombie…
They step into the portal hole . Tommy can feel his fur stand on end, the world spinning and shifting violently around them. The buzzing energy crackles through him, just shy of painful.
The spinning dies down, the world falls still. The first thing the kid notices is the lack of heat. The stuffy, uncomfortable warmth the potion had caused is completely gone now.
They've stopped walking, but air is still moving. It's blowing past, ruffling through his fur in a way that almost tickles. He giggles in surprise, shivering from the stark strangeness of the air. It's just as overwhelming as the portal hole, but in a completely different way.
"Oh mate, come here. Let's get you bundled up. We don't want you catching a cold." The god in a green striped hat says sweetly as he wraps the cloak around Tommy again. "Glad we beat the rain." The man adds under his breath.
"Hold on, he'll want this." Wilbur speaks up, reaching into his coat. "I'm gonna go hide now, so techno will kill you instead of me." He pulls out- Tommy's chicken!
Phil opens his mouth to respond, but the child whines pleadingly, cutting him off. Tommy reaches out for his toy, snorting in distress. The stuffy is offered, and the boy wraps his arms around it, pulling it close. That's better.
The foreign feeling stops, replaced by warmth. The cloth is wrapped just tight enough, nice and snug. The fur along the edge is so soft, and warm. The boy snuffles a thank you, staring up at the strange but generous god.
Then his eyes catch a glimpse of blue. The child stares up at an endless lake of the rare color. The sky wall is blue. Only… is it a sky wall? What weird stone would be blue? There are soft grey blobs floating through the air. Are those ghasts?
It's too strange for the kid to handle right now, so he buries his face into the cloth swadded around him. Phil lets out a high pitched sound, alien and musical in nature. The piglet doesn't think he could replicate those sounds even if he tried. Even still, he finds the noises soothing.
"Wilbur's a real stick in the mud, huh? He's too scared of Techno. The pink twat will get used to you visiting. He doesn't like change, that's all." The man jokes, mostly to himself. "Rest now, mate. We'll be home soon." The strange god whispers reassuringly into Tommy's ear.
He's not going home. Home is behind him, through a portal hole. But… if he closes his eyes, he can almost believe it. He can pretend it's Techno who's holding him. It's a nice lie.
The kid doesn't mean to fall asleep, he really doesn't. But Phil is warm, and his strange hands are so gentle. He can't stay awake.
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There are voices, soft whispers that are easy to ignore under the warm fog of sleep. Tommy could get used to waking up like this. He feels safe. He's being held. That's strange. His sounder would never hold him.
He opens his eyes, blinking away the blinding light. He's being held by a stranger. She has long black fur that grows only on her head. The lack of a snout has him staring. What is it?
The stranger holding him speaks. He can't understand the words, but it sounds like a woman. A voice responds, Is that… the god language? Is that Ph-PHIL! The god. now he remembers. Phil stole him.
Where is he? Who's holding him? He lets out a soft, questioning snort, too scared to be any louder. He gets a strange sound in return, something light and high pitched. It sounds safe? Maybe? He whines an apology just to be safe, baring his throat to whoever it is.
The one with black hair says something, sounding upset. She doesn't forgive him. Did he do something wrong?
He squeals another apology, tilting his head as far back as he can. He still isn't forgiven. She's talking with Phil. She sounds unhappy. Oh, he must be in so much trouble…
Phil reaches for the woman's hand, lacing their clawed fingers together. Then, he begins to guide her hand towards Tommy.
Here it comes… The boy cowers in on himself, waiting. Fingers brush over his throat. A whimper dies in his throat as his lungs forget how to breathe. She's going to tear him to shreds, slit his throat. He doesn't even know what he did wrong…
'Forgiven safe not-mad do-not-be-afraid' Phil grunts brokenly in his strange, high pitched accent.
It's almost enough to calm him down, but Phil isn't the one holding him by his throat. It's not up to him if Tommy is truly forgiven.
The woman clears her throat, causing the little one to flinch violently. Then, she rumbles 'forgiven'. It's gargled and strained, but recognizable.
The tenson bleeds out of Tommy's limbs. He's okay, she's not mad. Oh thank the gods. Thank these gods.
He leans into the fingers lightly resting on his throat. They begin to scratch under his mane, never hurting, detangling the matted fur.
It's so unexpected, the child lets out a surprised little squeak. He's rewarded with another hand joining the first, rubbing around his cheeks and behind his ears. Oh that's niiiiiiiice.
The golden one purrs loudly, snuggling closer with a yawn. The strange woman makes that nice sound again, soft and light. It sounds pretty. Tommy tries to mimic it, but his tusks get in the way. She laughs at his attempt.
"This is Kristin," Phil says in piglin, "she's my sounder, my mate. She's very happy to meet you." The man explains to him with a reassuring smile.
So this is Kristin. Techno said she'd… mother him in the afterlife? Is she in charge of sacrifices? Why is she being so nice? Is he next?
He doesn't want to die. But… If it's even a little like this… maybe it won't be so bad? If he gets to wake up like this everyday. If they keep being kind.
He can't figure out why they've been nice at all. He's been nothing but bad since he was sacrificed. Maybe anger is more of a mortal thing? Maybe he'll be okay.
And then the sky-wall explodes. A loud blast, so bright it lights up the room. There's a tapping, like hundreds of tiny hooves are pounding on the ceiling. The child sits up with a startle, snorting his distress.
"Easy, mate. It's just- just… huh. I don't think piglin have a word for it. It's… falling water. Lots of it. From the sky. It comes with light and sound. It can't get you from here." The man in a green striped hat tries to explain.
Water? From the… sky? From… up? What about the skywall? Tommy can't even picture it.
"Here, have your chicken. You like your chicken, right?" Phil tries, holding out the toy.
The golden one snorts happily, grabbing his new stuffed friend. He buries his face in his stuffy. He can smell Techno on the plushy, faint but distinct. It calms his nerves back down.
Whatever the falling-water is, it can't get him. Phil said so. He's safe. Probably. He has his chicken. That's good enough for now.