Chapter Text
Ranboo’s life had gotten a bit borning since autumn came about. In the summertime, he was constantly busy, whether he was helping Philza tend to the cows or planting seeds in the gardens, or helping out with other tasks around the sector. He’d found he had less to do as the days grew colder and the leaves began filling the grass and the sky grew more and more gray in the afternoons.
He’d spent more time practicing reading and writing in English after discovering Phil’s stash of books in his basement. He’d been helping organize; Tommy had been given the job of sorting the chests and tidying up, and he’d decided dragged Ranboo into it since gods knew Tommy couldn’t stay on task to save his life.
Ranboo had stumbled upon a small chest filled with books of many different shapes and sizes, bound with twine, lined with yellowing pages and fading words. He’d closed the box, having a feeling if Tommy saw, the books may not survive, and asked Phil about it later.
His eyes widened as Phil came up the stairs later that evening with the box in his arms. “This the chest you found earlier mate?” Phil asked with a knowing grin, placing the chest gently on the floor in the middle of his living room.
It looked much older now that Ranboo looked at it for a second time. The wood looked dated, dried and a little banged up. The leather straps holding it closed were cracked and peeling, and the gold plating the corners seem to be dented in a few places. He figured it had been with Phil for many years, unless he had been unnecessarily careless with it. Maybe its age was why Phil had perked up so much when he’d mentioned it.
Philza huffed as he let the chest sink into the plush rug and straightened to look up at Ranboo, resting his hands on his hips. His wings, had they been out from underneath his robe, would have stretched as he leaned back for a moment.
The fire crackled softly beside the enderman hybrid as his ears perked up and he nodded. Phil smiled softly. “Come here, I’ll show you.”
Ranboo scooted towards him, leaving his comfy spot on the floor by the fire, fueled by curiosity. His tail swished as he sat down, tucking his legs underneath him in anticipation.
Phil brushed off the dust that had gathered on top of the wooden chest and it’s leather straps, blowing and sending dust flying into the air. Ranboo had to suppress a sneeze.
Phil’s fingers quickly undid the snap holding the chest closed and Ranboo was sure it had to be the thousandth time he’d done it by the way his fingers undid the latch with no hesitation. Phil lifted the lid, the hinges squeezing softly as he let it hang open. Ranboo turned his head slightly, gazing excitedly into the chest and taking in the sight of the books filling the inside. Just the sight of it filled him with excitement.
Phil smiled softly at the boy, reaching inside and pulling out the book on top. “These have been around for a very long time,” he murmured as he unwinded the twine holding the book together. He opened the cover and Ranboo scooted only closer to see the ever yellowing pages. Filling the page were strokes of black ink in an elegant, small script.
Ranboo had a difficult time reading it, as his reading in English wasn’t very good yet. Phil had been teaching him how to read and write in English since he’d only known how to write in enderian when the two had met, but he still wasn’t too great at it. He still mixed up his words and often forgot to not write enderian words in English letters. He adapted to speaking English fairly well since it was all most everyone around him spoke, but reading and writing was still a bit of a challenge. He didn’t get much time to practice anymore.
The script was loose and tightly written together, far too fancy for Ranboo to be able to read.
“I used to write in these books about my adventures,” Phil explained, flipping through the pages with a smile etched with nostalgia. “My handwriting has surely seen better days, but the memories aren’t effected by that, are they?”
Ranboo shook his head, still staring intently at the script, trying to pick out and piece together words as if he could soak up the memories and the very emotions from the pages. “Your adventures you say?” he questioned, squinting, trying to make out a sentence. He could hardly piece together anything coherent so he gave up and looked back up to Phil.
“Yes! Where else do you think all of my stories come from?” Phil asked with a grin.
Ranboo’s face lit up. “You mean… those stories are all real?” He remembered back to many times of sitting around a bonfire, Phil with his sword out and his voice confident and passionate, Techno often by his side, acting out and telling him, Tommy, and Wilbur stories. He’d told many of battles, of adrenaline fueled scenes and dastardly rulers, making them both laugh and listen intently with his words. Ranboo had always known Phil was an excellent storyteller, and an even better hunter and father, but he had no idea the stories he told had any truth tied to them.
“I’ll let you discern for yourself which are true my boy.”
Ranboo was shocked to silence. He looked back at the chest, filled to the brim with words and pictures, recollection of past times, all contained within the books fragile pages. “May I hold one?”
Phil laughed heartily, closing the book he held and re-wrapping it with its twine. “Of course mate,” he said. “Let me find…” his hands placed the book to the side and reached back in the chest, moving a few to the side before pulling out a certain blue-covered book. “Aha!” He grinned, admiring the book.
The cover was made of a rough, scratched up material covering its hard case. The pages were in questionable condition, some torn and bent in places from use over years of time. Phil handed the book to Ranboo who held it carefully in his hands, cradling it like even looking at it could rip it to pieces.
“Go on,” Phil urged, leaning back and supporting himself with his hands as he watched. “Give it a look.”
Ranboo lifted the cover of the book, letting it rest open in his hands as he took in what resided on the first of the pages. A mixture of black and red ink covered the page.
This, he didn’t need to read to understand.
A rough image of Philza Minecraft himself, wings stretched towards the sky and his sword mounted in its sheath, decorated the page. The lines were all overlapping and Ranboo could see how the drawing was constructed, start to finish, by the jagged, yet expertly placed lines. He gawked at the page, unmoving, stunned. “Phil, I didn’t know you… I didn’t know you could draw?”
“That’s because I can’t,” Phil replied. He sat up, looking at the book. His eyes gleamed with admiration and for a second, they flashed with remembrance of another time. His face faltered for a moment at the memory before regaining its stature. “Techno drew that.”
“Technoblade drew that? I…”, he looked back at the drawing, “…it’s amazing.”
“He’s quite the artist,” Philza agreed. He flipped the page for Ranboo to reveal another drawing, this one a sketch of a mountain giving way into a flower-covered valley. “…but don’t tell him I said that.”
“Why not?”
Phil hummed as he thought about his answer. He looked back up to meet Ranboo’s face. “He doesn’t like to share it with many people, it is Techno after all. He’d insisted on burning it years ago once he’d filled the pages but… I couldn’t let it catch fire. All that ink and time gone to waste. All the things he’d drawn, lost to the flames.” Phil’s voice sounded almost… mournful as he retraced the memory to Ranboo.
“Does he know you kept it?” Ranboo asked. He felt almost as if this were an invasion of privacy, like these drawings were meant only for Techno’s and Phil’s eyes. He supposed, if Phil trusted him… he should trust himself, should he not? But still, he questioned what Technoblade would think had he been there.
“He does,” Phil nodded. “Or he used to. It’s been so long, I wonder if he’d even recognize this old thing. It’s been years since I’ve seen him pick up a pen.” Phil reached out his hand and Ranboo closed and handed him the book back.
As if summoned by mention of his name, the door a few feet away from them opened and with it came a breeze and none other than Technoblade. Phil and Ranboo both turned towards the sound. “Ah, Techno, perfect timing,” Phil greeted.
“Phil,” Techno greeted simply. He looked to Ranboo as he took off his coat, quickly looking away from Ranboo’s eyes and at the floor. “Ranboo,” he said, politely nodding.
“Hello,” Ranboo said, pulling his legs in closer underneath him. The fire popped loudly, making his ears perk. He blinked away his focus on the sound and trained his attention on Phil’s words as he further welcomed Techno.
“Did Tommy ever finish organizing the basement?” Techno asked, crossing the room to poke at the fire. He prodded the mostly-burnt logs causing them to spark and hiss at the movement. The wood glowed red as it had been reduced to coals, some still burning softly.
“He and Ranboo did earlier this afternoon. Tommy could hardly focus on his own, so Ranboo graciously offered to help.”
Ranboo had to ignore the urge to say Tommy had told Ranboo he had to help or he’d gut him, but decided against it.
“That boy,” Techno huffed, not mad, so to speak, just understanding of Tommy’s nature. “He can’t do a single thing without company.”
“Nothing’s wrong with wanting company,” Ranboo spoke softly. “And… I don’t mind at all. It gave me something to do!”
“And, he managed to uncover an old chest of mine.”
“Oh really?” Techno’s attention was skewed for a moment as he placed two more logs on the fire, positioning them in a way to allow oxygen to reach the newly born flames. He then turned back to Phil and Ranboo. “What chest? Don’t tell me it’s full of wither roses, gods know you hoard those as if they’re made of gold.” Techno huffed. “I’ve begun to hate the things Phil, you have a problem.”
“No, not wither roses,” Phil chuckled. “You and I both know those are far too dangerous to keep in the house. Gods know Tommy would figure out a way to grind them up and smoke them if he had access.”
Ranboo chuckled a bit. Tommy would definitely do something to that nature given the chance.
“This chest is filled with books.”
Techno’s face seemed to twist just slightly for a moment as he looked past Ranboo’s figure to see the chest behind him on the floor. His features shifted slightly as he seemed to recognize the gold embedded into the chest’s wood. His eyes found the book still in Phil’s hand and his eyebrows furrowed hardly enough to be noticeable. “Is that…”
“It is. Come sit,” Phil spoke.
Ranboo was intrigued. He’d never seen Technoblade look so… quizzical. He always held an expression of assurance, of knowledge. His extensive years of hunting and battle gave him little to be surprised about he supposed, but for once, Techno looked… baffled.
The piglin hybrid rounded the group to sit on the opposite side to Ranboo to Phil’s left, his eyes locking on the blue book. “I thought I burnt that book a decade ago,” Techno said, taking the book from Phil who handed it to him without question.
“You almost did. However… I thought it would be best to not waste the ink.”
“Damn your sentimental nature,” Techno said with no real bite in his words as he flipped through the pages. Phil chuckled. “Waste the ink,” he muttered, absentmindedly as he flipped through the pages.
Ranboo watched from his spot, gaining a glance at two other drawings before Techno closed the book suddenly. Ranboo jumped slightly at the soft noise. He’d been a little too focused on the pages.
“Memories from another life,” Techno said. “Decades ago…”
Ranboo pretended to not be confused as Phil agreed and Techno placed the book back into the chest. Decades? Had it really been deacades since the pair had seen these books? Since Techno had used a pen and captured these moments?
“There’s no sense in reliving past days,” Techno hummed, standing swiftly. His eyes landed back on the fire as he exhaled softly. “Not when the present is still here kicking our asses.”
“You’ve always been a pessimist,” Phil countered as Techno began to walk towards the kitchen.
“I prefer the term realist, Phil. You and I both know equally well that reality is a stubborn horse that won’t hesitate to kick you in the face.” He paused for a moment before exhaling sharply. “I’m making tea for Wilbur since he’s a complete idiot and caught a cold swimming in the lake in the middle of October. Enjoy the books.” With that, Techno rounded the corner and left.
Phil shook his head lightly, looking back to Ranboo who pressed his lips together tightly in response. “Time is hard to capture, but not impossible,” he chuckled softly.
Ranboo nodded. “Not impossible,” he repeated. He brushed a piece of hair lazily out of his eyes and adjusted his sitting position. “Are you glad you’ve written down all your stories Phil?”
Phil’s wings shifted beneath his robe as he breathed in, then out, deeply. “I think I am. It means I don’t forget all the things I’ve done, all the people I’ve met.” He smiled, but Ranboo sensed a twinge of sadness in his features. “It helps me relive and… remember it all. The good, the bad, the lessons, the lives.”
Ranboo nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest. He rested his head on his knees gently, peering back into the chest, catching another glance in case Phil shut the chest and he never saw the books below again. “I wish I could remember half as well as you do,” he hummed. “I don’t have any books… We hardly have enough sugarcane for our food, much less to spare on binding a book.”
Phil frowned. “You are unfortunately right about that,” he sighed.
The two of them were both equally aware of the lack of food their village had experienced in passing times. Their livestock had hit a rough patch during the summer season and over half died to a sudden disease. They were already short with as many mouths as they had to feed, even less with the loss of cattle.
Technoblade had led a group of hunters for as long as Ranboo could remember (which wasn’t a great measure of time admittedly), but with the sectors hardly moving to allow them to reach other areas of the world in recent times, they were left with hardly anything to hunt. The amount of times they’d come back empty handed was enough to frustrate Techno to the point of overexertion. He’d hunt, alone, for hours at a time to only return with a single deer sling over his shoulder. Enough for three mouths if they were lucky.
Ranboo watered and tended the gardens as much as he could, but there wasn’t much to tend to when the sun scorched everything he planted. They needed rain. As much as Ranboo hated the rain, he, along with the other members of his sector began silently asking the XD gods to bring water for their crops under his breath.
Phil placed both of the books they’d looked at back in the chest, but his hands remained in the chest even after he’d let go of them. When his hands reemerged, in them was a book wrapped in rusty brown leather and sealed with a thin string. It looked newer than some of the other books in the box, like it hadn’t seen as much daylight or reached as many hands. “I think you could use this,” Phil said, handing the book to Ranboo who took it hesitantly.
“Use this? I-“ he flipped open the book to reveal blank white pages, empty and beautiful. “I can’t Phil, that’s far too great a gift.”
“It’s not doing me any good in this chest, now is it my boy?”
Ranboo looked to Phil with question and gratitude in his eyes. He refused to let them water with shock and instead closed the book and clutched it to his chest. “You mean it? I can keep it?”
Phil smiled and nodded. “Of course. Write down all your adventures in there, tell the pages of your greatest dreams. They tend to come true when you write them.”
Ranboo grinned. “Thank you Phil.” Ranboo hugged the book closer.
“Of course mate. Now, you should really be going. It’s getting late and I wouldn’t want you to have to walk back home in the dark, alone.”
Phil stood up and offered his hand to the enderman, who gratefully accepted it. Ranboo hesitated to hug Phil, putting his arms around the mans shoulders as he towered above the older man. “Thank you, I won’t forget this, I promise,” Ranboo said.
“You’re welcome mate. Now go on, get out of here before Will comes back and steals the thing from you. He’s a bit sick of having to write his song lyrics on old dried leafs.”
Phil walked Ranboo to the door, but the two of them were stopped as Techno entered with a thermos in hand. Techno eyed the book in Ranboo’s arms, squinting slightly. Ranboo felt like he was in possession of something that wasn’t his to touch, like he was stealing as Techno’s nose twitched and he cleared his throat. “It’s a good color. And the leathers tough. Just don’t drop it in mud and you should be fine.”
“Oh! Of course, I’ll… I’ll take good care of it! I’ll be careful.”
Techno cracked a small smirk. “I’m sure you will.” He extends his hand with the thermos out to Ranboo who looked at it, confused. “It’s tea. It’s getting colder out in the evenings. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold like Will,” he explained, his voice monotone as ever.
“Oh… we’ll, uh, thank you.”
“Mmhm.” With that, Techno turned and disappeared down the hallway just as swiftly as he’d appeared.
Phil shook his head with a smile before patting Ranboo on the shoulder. “Travel safe mate, we’ll see you tomorrow.”