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“When I said show me your ways, mate, I think I was expecting a beginner’s tutorial. Like, a ten minute mini course.”
“Phil, if you wanna do something right, ya gotta put the work in.” Techno drawled, casting a critical eye over Philza’s row in the dirt. “That’s uneven.”
“I don’t think the potatoes are going to care.” Phil squinted at his friend from under the brim of his hat. He frowned when Kristen’s giggles slipped through his head, glaring down at the row of holes he’d just created in the soil beneath him. It’s even!
Not even close, Phil , Kristen’s laughter filled him with warmth, and he rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Techno. The man stared back at him expectantly and eventually - as he usually did - Philza groaned and gave in, sweeping dirt over the holes and starting afresh. “It doesn’t matter!”
“It matters!” Techno insisted. “Cause then the potatoes each have an equal amount of room to grow.”
“It’s mental behavior…” Philza groused, grinning when Techno let out a huffing sound of annoyance when he caught the words. But Philza did as ordered, poking evenly spaced holes in the soil, then sitting back on his talons and waiting when he was done. Beside him, Techno had done about twice the number of holes in the same amount of time, and when he saw Phil was done, grunted and produced a bucket full of potatoes.
“So you gotta cut them up, but ya got to make sure there’s an eye in each piece.” Techno instructed. He cut the potato into segments, then showed Phil what the so-called “eye” of the potato looked like. “Make sure these are sticking upwards.”
Phil nodded, taking a potato and carefully cutting it with the knife Techno provided. It was cold up here in the arctic, but they’d constructed a little hut, a greenhouse of sorts, to keep away the worst of the chill. The result was a strange, stifling sort of warmth inside the hut that made Phil’s feathers twitch and sweat start to bead on the back of his neck, despite the weather outside being freezing. Their coats were hung up by the door, at least, otherwise the warmth might have been a little too stifling. Not that Techno seemed bothered in the slightest.
They worked in companiable silence, placing the bits of potato into the holes they’d created and slowly covering them in dirt. When the previous ones were finished, they created new rows (yes, they were even, Techno, and Kristen stop laughing!) By the time the bucket of potatoes was empty a sizable area had been planted, and Techno finished it off by thoroughly watering the entire space.
“Oh my god, we are going to have so many potatoes,” Phil snorted, taking in the sight. He waited for Techno to stand before going for his coat, brushing dirt off of his hands and shaking it out of his primaries. “We’ll be eating potatoes for weeks.”
“Nothin’ better than some potato and beef stew, Phil.”
“Or mashed potatoes.”
“Baked potatoes.”
“We don’t have the stuff for that.” Phil frowned, throwing on his coat and shuffling his wings through the slits in the back. Techno threw his cloak over his shoulder with unnecessarily dramatic flare, the crimson fabric rippling out behind him.
“There’s pigs hiding in the forest. Bacon bits, right? And I can make cheese from the cows.”
“Bacon bits?” Philza gasped in mock horror, hand pressed to his chest. “Techno, that’s cannibalism .” He squawked with laughter when Techno glared at him, red eyes glinting.
Outside, it was predictably freezing, and Phil fluffed his feathers up to preserve some of the balmy heat still clinging to his clothes. Tech’s breath puffed out in great bouts of steam, competing with the snowflakes whisking through the air. But Phil felt warm inside where it counted, Kristen’s presence hugging him close and Techno walking firm by his side as they strolled back towards the main house. There would be tea, a fireplace, comfy places to sit and relax. Retirement suited Techno in a strangely wholesome way, and Phil was more than happy to enjoy it with his friend.
Even if it meant going out now and again and doing a deep-dive into potato planting.
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The sun was beating down on Philza’s back and neck, his samue completely drenched in sweat. His wings, arched above him, provided a little bit of shade, but the black feathers soaked up heat as well and just ended up making him feel hotter. But he had a task, and he was going to finish this task before he allowed himself to rest.
The holes he was digging in the ground held just a little more importance to him now.
You’re going to get dehydrated , Kristen chided him softly. His vision flickered and he thought he could see her, dark and vast and beautiful, wings hovering around the edge of his periphery. When he blinked there were crows, instead. Her gift to him, although they were annoying little shits most of the time. Right now they seemed content to perch on every available surface and watch him work.
Nah, I’ll be fine , Philza thought. He paused, wiping sweat from his brow, and checked up at the sky. The sun was almost directly overhead; having started in the late morning, he’d been out here for a few hours. Kristen’s discontent rushed through him, an agitated ruffling of feathers. She was an awfully strong mother hen considering she was the goddess of death.
I care for everyone, because everyone ends up under my care in the end , her voice purred through his head, a sonorous vibration that almost made him feel sleepy. Or maybe he really was a bit worn out. Don’t you think that care would be multiplied thousandfold for my husband?
Aww , Philza smiled to himself, sending a rush of affection in her direction and grinning wider when it was redirected back towards him, stronger and deeper, spreading to the very tips of his wings and fingertips. He was going to say something else but movement in the physical world caught his attention, making him glance up from the soil beneath him.
Chayanne was walking towards him, barefoot, duck swimmies in place. His little hands were clutched tightly around a glass of water, golden eyes narrowed in utter concentration as he walked and tried not to spill it. Tallulah trailed along behind him, her eyes also fixed intently on the water, the two of them looking like they were using every ounce of collective willpower to keep that glass safe from all possible harm.
The sight was indescribably cute, setting something alight in his chest that ached, bittersweet fire. Kristen cooed something about fledglings while Phil decided if it was worth moving, not wanting to startle the two dragonets into spilling the water they were so desperately trying to protect.
Fortunately, when they got closer, Chayanne’s eyes flicked up to meet Philza’s gaze, and those two dark pupils widened in affection. He nudged Tallulah, carefully, and the younger dragonet beamed at him with sharp teeth.
We brought you water! She signed, and when they were close enough Chayanne presented the glass to Phil like an art piece he was particularly proud of. Philza found himself beaming at the duo, reaching out to grab the water while Kristen poured waves of approval over the three of them. “Thanks, you two. What have you been up to?”
Playing with Dapper . Chayanne’s face took on an expression of profound innocence that Phil had come to associate with Dapper, and the elytrian shook his head in mock annoyance. The black-and-white dragonet was just as mischievous as his parent - it was to be expected, he supposed - and anytime the kids got tangled up into one of his schemes it typically involved a lot of property damage. It was probably best not to ask. “I hope you guys were at least being safe.”
Tallulah nodded, and Chayanne puffed out his chest. I made sure we were safe.
“I know you did, mate.” Phil grinned, then took a sip of his water - a sip that turned into a mad-dash to gulp the entire thing down because void above he was thirsty.
Told you, Kristen said smugly. Phil fought the urge to roll his eyes - only a few people knew about their little unspoken conversations and he didn’t feel up to trying to explain it to the little ones.
What are you doing? Tallulah crept closer, studying the progress he’d made in the soil.
“Just a bit of potato planting.”
Can we help?
“Of course.” Phil said easily. Some of the dragonets he wouldn’t have really wanted helping with this sort of thing, but he trusted Chayanne and Tallulah. They were great kids, especially together, and upon receiving the go-ahead from him the two took up positions on either side of him, matching sunshine eyes staring at him expectantly for instructions.
So Phil started to show them what he knew, explaining what he’d been doing up until this point, showcasing how to poke a hole into the dirt at the right depth and space apart from each other. It triggered a memory, something bittersweet that nestled itself alongside his ribcage and plucked at his heartstrings. Manageable, but when he let the dragonets try and watched Tallulah excitedly poke holes in a very decidedly not-even row, his heart clenched.
That’s uneven , Phil
Not that Philza cared, but that didn’t stop him from taking a very slow, controlled breath in and out through his nose. The ache in his chest had turned into a steady sting behind his eyes; it intensified when Tallulah looked at her brother’s row, which was even messier than hers somehow, and scoffed.
It wasn’t… sadness. Not necessarily. It was that and a million other things all wrapped up in one. Because Phil had always wanted kids of his own, wanted to help start a little life and watch it grow. Wanted to shield it and protect it and show it the wonders of the universe, wanted to help it back up when it stumbled and comfort it when it cried. But Phil only could do that with the right person, and for him, that person would always be Kristen.
Kristen, his beloved. Kristen, his best friend. Kristen, the immortal, intangible, overwhelming presence that she was, the Goddess of Death, existing on every plane and yet none of them. Kristen, who could not help him raise kids in the way Philza had always envisioned.
And his wife understood his longing, she had, and she had given him permission time and time again to find another partner, if he so wished. To find a surrogate, to do something to act on what he wanted, because she loved him and did not begrudge him this. But Philza would never, ever be known for any disloyality to his wife, and his love for her came first always. He’d made peace with himself, had acknowledged that maybe this wasn’t going to be a chapter in his life, and moved on.
Except, through some wild, whimsical turn of fate, the universe seemed hellbent on throwing kids at him anyways, whether he was ready for them or not. Whether it was the wild-child teenagers on a server so long ago, or the plethora of little dragonets on this server, they just showed up in Phil’s presence in need of attention. And when the universe offered him this, who was Phil to say no? Who was he to let them go on without guidance?
Watching Chayanne and Tallulah now was almost painful, but in a way that Phil would never want to change. It was beautiful, little wings catching the light of the sun, bright eyes gleaming, little faces scrunched up in intense concentration as they did their best to help him. Phil could forget the heat and the fatigue and any sort of physical discomforts because this was almost perfect.
Almost, because gods above Phil would have given anything to let Techno be here to see this moment.
I did it! Chayanne finally signed, eyes immediately darting over to Phil for approval. The line he’d created was indescribably messy, and he’d somehow gotten dirt all over his shirt and swimmies. Tallulah’s was a bit neater but the holes far-too close together.
Both of them were studying him, hopeful. Phil remembered Techno’s critical eye from so long ago, his rumbling, if ya wanna do something right, ya gotta put the work in . But he also remembered Tech’s excited, they’re growing, Phil! a week or so later, and the self-satisfied grin they’d shared when they made soup with those potatoes for the first time, cozy and secure in Techno’s house with a snowstorm outside.
“It’s perfect.” Phil told the dragonets, and he thought Techno would have agreed with him, grumblings and all.
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“I think I know how to sharpen a sword, mate .”
“ You’re doing it all wrong .” Phil never thought he’d be able to describe something Techno said as a whine and yet that’s exactly what his friend just did. “If you’d just let me do it-”
“ EH, my sword, my rules for sharpening.” Phil batted away Techno’s reaching fingers with one with, incredibly conscious of how those hands could snap his fragile bones like twigs, but also fully trusting in their touch. “I’m doing it just fine.”
“But the edge isn’t going to be sharp enough-”
“It’s going to be fine.”
“If you just alternate sides more often-”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Phil set his sword down and threw his hands up in the air, scowling when Kristen giggled. “Fine. Fine! Show me how you sharpen swords properly, my dear Blood God.”
Techno huffed a satisfied breath through his nose, crimson eyes flashing a little at the moniker, and plopped himself down in the chair next to Phil. They’d been on the move for months, drifting aimlessly, following the smell of violence on the wind that drew Techno’s senses like a bloodhound on the hunt.
They weren’t wanton murderers, because they didn’t show up and start fights for no reason. Rather, Techno’s instincts drew him where the fights were already underway, and he came in more than happy to finish them. And Phil? Phil was the Angel, her Angel, and Kristen knew exactly where he needed to go.
The little part of Phil’s brain that enjoyed peace, the part that sang around children and sunshine and the warmth of Kristen’s wings wrapped around him, might have objected to so much violence. But Phil was friends with The Blood God for more than just his personality, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he loved the thrill of war just as much as his friend did. Feeling all the coiled strength in his bones, the flex of his wings as he dashed through the sky and rained down arrows and hellfire, slipping into the fray to dance side-by-side across blood-slicked grass… It was all very exhilarating. Especially afterwards, when the battle was over, and the two of them licked their wounds while Phil watched Kristen descend , unseen to all but him. Her form, blocking out the sky, fingers plucking souls like grapes from vines, drawing them all into her embrace. The pride in her expression when she smiled at him, eyes dark and filled with starlight, and the pride Phil felt in his chest knowing that his actions were for her.
But between the action, Philza and Technoblade were traveling nomads with only each other for company (physical company, sorry Kristen), and that led to bizarre little interactions like this where his friend decided the literal Angel of Death didn’t know how to sharpen his own sword properly.
Techno reached out with his hands - massive, bone-crushing, gentle hands - and took Phil’s sword into his own space, settling it on the table Phil had constructed out of stones. Deep in his mind, Kristen flitted forward to survey his sword, and her displeasure rumbled through him like stormclouds.
I could fix it for you , she pouted, because she had asked this question dozens of times and his answer always remained the same. You know that .
But where’s the fun in that? Phil thought, stretching back and rolling his wrists and ankles, letting his wings curl comfortably around his shoulders. Making new swords is fun, Kristen .
I could make you something beautiful , Kristen hummed playfully, and the ghostly sensation of feather-light touches echoed along his shoulders and along the inside of one of his wings, like his wife had slipped herself into the curve there and placed her hands on his shoulders. He shivered when a tingling sensation cascaded into being around one of his ears, the feathers fluttering, like she was speaking right there behind them. Something worthy of the Angel of Death. Something that would stay sharp and deadly forever.
“If Kristen’s offering up weapons, tell her I could use a new axe.” Techno grunted, not looking up from his task. It startled Phil into staring at his friend - even Kristen was a little taken aback, but Tech was observant. And he understood more than anyone about having voices in your head.
“It’s cheating.” Phil announced, smirking when Kristen gave a dramatic sigh and receded a little, hovering at the periphery of his awareness as she always did. “And demeaning. You think that we , The Blood God and The Angel of Death, can’t handle our own weaponry?”
“It would just be nice to have. Imagine, Phil, we’d just have to clean ‘em and sheath ‘em and be done with it. No more having to stop and have me sharpen your sword for ya ‘cause you can’t do it right-”
“Oy!” Phil scoffed. “Lies! My sword sharpening is fine!”
“It’s not, cause look at it now, Phil!” Techno handed the sword back to him with a flourish, looking far too pleased with himself. Did he forget that they had to do this practically every week? “Flawless.”
Phil took the sword back, the iron gleaming in the setting sun that shot through the trees surrounding their little forest enclave. Carefully he drew one finger along the blade, touching one of his own sharp talons to the edge. When the blade immediately began to cut into the talon he removed it, admittedly impressed by the degree of sharpness that Techno had coaxed from the metal. He sheathed it to preserve that state, making a show of sighing and shaking his head. “I’ll admit it, you’re the master of the blade, Techno.”
“Course I am.” Techno drawled, but his expression was pleased and Phil’s heart warmed at the sight of it.
He loved these little moments between wars, and if he had to put up with a bit of slander to see his friend look so at peace and satisfied, then Phil would do so. Companionship was more important than victory, anyway.
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Diamond didn’t need to be sharpened, ordinarily, and so diamond swords kept their sleek and deadly shine almost indefinitely. But diamond could be chipped by other diamonds or materials of similar or stronger hardness. As such, when Phil had a diamond sword that he’d used against another player in diamond armor the previous day as a joke, he’d been more than a little annoyed to find that the sword had gotten chipped as well.
Imagine having a sword that never needed to be sharpened… Kristen cooed to him, and the flock of crows that perched both inside and outside of his house through the open doorway started to caw, as if laughing alongside her. Phil sighed, not angry - never angry with Kristen - but certainly annoyed. My mind is never going to change, Kristen.
I’m patient. Kristen sounded smug, and when a crow came to rest on his shoulder it felt like her giving him a firm, teasing pat. I can wait .
“I’m sure you can,” Phil muttered aloud, shooing a few crows aside as he pulled a chair away from his table and drew his diamond sword, inspecting it in the light of the late-afternoon sun coming through the window. Sure enough, the edges were rough and jagged in places, and he groaned in annoyance before setting it on the table and grabbing his obsidian whetstone.
Or at least, that’s what he was going to do, but he was interrupted by three pairs of little footprints scurrying towards the door. The crows all took up their raucous cries upon the figures entering, prompting Phil to shout out a “ Quiet!” in an attempt to focus.
The crows did eventually go quiet, in part because they seemed to have finally noticed who it was that entered the room, and their attention was rapidly focused on the trio.
Papa Philza! Chayanne greeted, sharp white teeth bared in a smile as he scampered over to the table. Behind him was Tallulah, as per usual, but to Phil’s surprise there was also Leo, dark hair covered by her mushroom cap today and bright green eyes immediately getting drawn to the sparkling sword on the table. In fact, all three dragonets were taking up seats at the table before Phil could get a word in. Multiple crows came to rest on their shoulders or heads, but none of the dragonets did anything about it; they were used to that by now.
“Hello!” Phil smiled at the trio, and nodded in Leo’s direction. “Good to see you, Leo. You've been playing with these two?”
Papa esta ocupado, Leo signed, making a face. Says I should play instead of helping . Molesto .
“I’m sure he just wants to make sure you’re socializing.” Were it any other player, Phil might have thought they’d sent Leo away because they were annoyed by her presence, but Foolish adored Leo. “Anyway, stay as long as you like. Chayanne, Tallulah, did you guys need something?”
What are you doing? Tallulah asked, resting her chin on the table, her lavender wings fluttering a little.
“I gotta sharpen my sword.” Phil sighed. “It got dinged up when I whacked Fit with it yesterday.”
We can watch? Leo asked, little claws poised on the wood of the tabletop. Phil nodded, but found himself hesitating when Chayanne then rapidly signed, Teach us?
Philza paused at that, uncertain. He became very aware that Kristen was watching him closely, both because the crows had all gone utterly silent and because he could feel her looming, observing. Not judging, but certainly waiting to see how he responded. Perhaps she had an opinion of her own - no, she certainly did, but she wanted to hear his first.
He wanted to say no, because the three little figures in front of him were children . Barely able to see over the table when seated, wings still small and fragile, eyes big and wide and innocent. The weight of a thousand wars sat on Phil’s shoulders and he shuddered to think of transferring any of that weight onto them by encouraging them to pick up a sword.
Yes, guns existed in this world. He knew that, he knew they tended to circulate through the dragonets. This server was both about kids and not , because nobody in their right mind should give a child a weapon and yet the guns and ammo made their way to everyone eventually and the dragonets all knew how to use them ( the mines, Chayanne, the MINES.)
But a sword was different. Phil wasn’t sure how, but it certainly felt like it was. Maybe it was because he was just now seeing guns for the first time in this world, whereas he had a millennia in his head of watching swords slice and cut and stab, dripping with blood. He’d seen those blades slice throats and sever limbs. Hell, he’d done all of these things, time and time again, until the steel of his blade had been crimson and the residual splatter had stained his samue and hat with its rust. It felt wrong to show them anything about this weapon, knowing the history of it that he did.
And yet… these kids weren’t entirely innocent, and they’d certainly seen their fair share of death and danger. His gaze drifted to Chayanne and Tallulah and his heart ached in his chest, picturing a boat and a swirling form of green and grey. Leo had seen fighting as well, especially with her father being Foolish and Bad always lurking around. Some of it was funny, the rest of it… well, the dragonets had seen swords in action.
They’d been threatened, and they’d been injured. Phil couldn’t help but wonder if he was preventing a problem by showing them such a skill. It wasn’t like he was teaching them how to fight.
The ache in his chest intensified: that could have been another friend’s job.
But Phil wasn’t Techno, so he would do no such thing unless absolutely necessary. He could, however, teach them this, drawing on exposure and lessons from dozens of years.
“Fine.” Phil agreed, and three faces brightened with excitement. “Watch closely, alright?” In his heart and soul, Kristen’s approval rang forth.
The three watched in rapt attention as Phil procured a cloth and ran it lightly over the sword’s blade, explaining how it was to remove dirt and oils and other such debris that could interfere with the sharpening process. Be careful, he warned them, because he could unfortunately no longer keep count of how many times he’d nicked himself while sharpening a sword, even if his hands and talons were made of sterner stuff than normal human skin. The dragonets’ eyes followed his every move, hanging on to his every word.
The sword was diamond, so it would be harder to sharpen even with an obsidian whetstone. He explained this to the three as he worked, drawing the stone out and using it to carefully scrape along the edges of the blade, emphasizing how important it was to be extra cautious. As he spoke, other words started to weave themselves alongside his own, a voice gruffer and deeper but no less focused. Kristen pressed herself alongside his soul when the ache in his chest grew ever-deeper.
Because the truth was, Phil always listened. Even when he rolled his eyes, or insisted he knew better, or when he pretended he wasn’t. Techno was his best friend, how could he not listen? And when it came to the ways of war in its entirety, the only person that might have drawn more respect from Phil would have been Kristen.
The children were enthralled, studying him intently as he alternated the ways he scraped the blade, remembering the careful, controlled movements that Techno had shown him long ago. He remembered sitting in their little camps on cliffs, plains, within the forest, behind waterfalls. A lifetime of running and fighting before Kristen released them and they discovered more constructive ways to vent their adrenaline through pvp-games and competitions. Before the Arctic Empire and their reign of it. Before joining a server that so quickly descended into madness, although Techno had been there first, and before… well. Before Techno was gone .
Before I brought him home , Kristen corrected softly, and Phil had to fight to keep his hands steady and to blink the tears from his eyes. Sometimes he forgot. It was hard to find peace in something like that when there was no way to confirm, and the only thing he had to go on was Kristen’s word. Even if she was his wife and he trusted her in every single aspect of everything .
The sword sharpening was finished sooner than he’d expected, or perhaps he’d lost track of time. Either way, when Phil finished the sword and carefully showcased the glinting, razer-sharp edges to the dragonets in the fading light from the windows, the kids were excited. So excited, in fact, that he was rewarded with rare verbal squeals, the kids jumping up from their seats and staring in rapture at the shining sword.
Misplaced admiration in his skills, perhaps, because anyone could learn and Phil knew of at least one person who could have done even better . And he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the dragonets getting this excited over weapons. But… it felt nice to share this knowledge, especially since he knew whom it had come from. It felt like passing down a legacy, in a sense, although he sincerely hoped none of these kids would ever have need of it.
They are just a little more prepared because of you and him, Kristen spoke softly, a tender caress curving over one of his wings. A few more crows came to nestle themselves under the space between his shoulder and jaw, tucked against his neck, while another settled sleepily in his hair. Annoying little shits, that's what they were. But in moments like this, where their soft weight grounded him and the brush of their feathers reminded Phil of someone else, he remembered why Kristen had gifted them to him.
With that comfort, and with the bright-eyed faces in front of him… maybe all of this had turned out okay, after all.
He wondered if Techno would have been proud of that sword.
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“How does flying work?” Techno asked him randomly one day, when they were weaving themselves through a busy marketplace. Their empire might have been in the freezing Arctic but that didn’t stop business from taking place; even with the temperature well below freezing, the market was bustling, the air marginally heated by so many bodies in one place. The noise was just as lively as ever, and big, open firepits had sprung up to combat the chill.
They were here more to observe and watch than to really buy anything, because it wouldn’t be the first time another empire had tried to take out a bunch of civilians to make a statement, so Phil wasn’t too focused to have missed Techno’s question. Even still, it took him by surprise. “How does what?”
“Flying. How does it work?” Tech moved forward smoothly, confidently, knowing that the people would make space for him, and they did . Parting in front of him easily, which allowed Phil to trail behind without having to tuck his wings too far in or watch out for his talons snagging someone’s clothing. “Cause it seems simple but clearly it isn’t, ‘cause the planes we used obviously don’t work the same way.”
“It’s…” Phil frowned, finding he was lacking an answer. Kristen?
Don’t ask me. Phil could very clearly picture her holding her hands up. Just because I have wings doesn’t mean I do much flying. I can go where I want just by thinking it so, my love .
“It’s hard to explain.” Logic stated he should have all the answers, but flying wasn’t something he thought about the mechanics of very often, he just did it . “How would you describe swimming?”
“I guess… just kinda moving your arms and legs around until you don’t drown.” Techno shrugged, cape sweeping aside little drifts of snow as they walked. Nearby, a jangle of bells almost drowned out his next words as an overzealous vendor sought to draw people near. “You push yourself through the water with all of your limbs and also hold your breath so you don’t drown.”
“Right. But there’s obviously a lot more to it than that, otherwise everybody would instinctively know how to swim.” Phil pointed out. “Moving around your limbs and not breathing in water isn’t really a baseline for swimming. I guess you can say it's the same for flying; you beat your wings to get airborne and just… keep beating them, but not always, and you have to do a lot of different movements to get to where you want to go. Landing’s a lot different, too. But it’s hard to describe how.” Phil shrugged. “I just do it.”
“Huh.” Tech sounded genuinely thoughtful, clearing the way for them to reach the edge of the marketplace, where they then began climbing a nearby ridge so they could better survey the town from above. Something Phil could have easily done in mere seconds, but he always stuck to the ground unless Tech said it was okay for him to fly ahead, because it was important for them to be seen as a unit while they ruled. “If it were simple, I suppose they wouldn’t have had to create planes the way they are.”
“I suppose so.” Phil shrugged. “You really were just curious?”
Techno was silent for a moment, drumming his fingers along the handle of his axe as he thought. Great plumes of steam left his nostrils whenever he breathed, lungs like giant billows in some great armory. His partner was a walking furnace.
“Flying seems… cool.” He finally settled on, and Phil couldn’t help but snort. That prompted a glare that lacked any kind of heat, and Techno persisted. “It is! And not just in a, ‘I wish I could fly, way.’ It just looks like there’s a lotta steps involved, which is fascinating to watch, and I guess it looks…” Techno struggled for words once again, before landing on, “Free.”
Phil grinned, but this time it was a genuine one. “It is.” His thoughts turned skyward, memories of wind and clouds and sun and rain and the heavens trailing through his mind. He thought of Kristen, how in his dreams or deepest meditations he was able to see her, and they’d go souring through a void of endless stars. It was freedom, completely, and something he would never grow tired of nor take for granted.
“I kinda wish I could.” Techno’s voice actually sounded wistful, prompting Phil to leave his daydreams to focus on his friend. The man was staring up at the sky, crimson eyes glazed a little in thought. “It seems nice. Just to be up there, no one botherin’ you, just you and the sky.”
Phil hesitated, uncertain on how to respond, because responding with candor would be him saying yes , it’s the greatest thing ever, and it was too bad Tech could never experience it like how he did. But Techno could , in a way, and so Phil threw out, “You always have the planes, mate. One of these days we’ll go for a proper flight, just you and me, no missions. Just to see the sky.”
Tech grinned, head leaving the sky to look at him, and his eyes were filled with proper joy. “I’d like that.”
They’d planned it for weeks, but every plan was foiled by fighting and attacks from all sides, and it kept getting pushed back. Then the war was over and the empire was gone, and the places they ended up next didn’t have planes. Elytras were close, but those were forbidden on some worlds, so much so that Phil had to submit to the horrible ordeal of clipping his own feathers to avoid breaking any laws. Not that it mattered, they stuck him in house arrest anyways for simply knowing where his friend was .
And then Techno moved on, left him to run into Kristen’s open arms, and that flight would never come to pass. Phil would imagine it, though, a million different times in both waking and sleeping dreams. He liked to think Techno would have found it quite exhilarating and peaceful in equal measure.
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Phil had just returned home from some time chatting with some friends, when he was faced with not two, not three, but five expectant faces.
“ FUCK!” Phil screeched, jumping backwards as soon as his feet recovered their corporeal state after being teleported. His yelp startled the dragonets, too, because a few of them flinched backwards, but the others scrunched up their faces in silent laughter at his surprise. Dapper, of course, was the biggest perpetrator.
“What are you all doing!?” Phil demanded, because seeing five dragonets clustered together like this typically meant a trap was laid somewhere and they were all waiting to see if someone fell into it. “Are there mines in the ground again?”
Dapper rolled his eyes while Chayanne, Tallulah, and Leo all snorted. It was the fifth dragon, little Pomme, who tentatively signed to him, You’ve been teaching skills to the others. Would you teach us something today?
Phil blinked, taken aback by that request. It wasn’t a joke - Pomme’s eyes, a beautiful mix of reds and yellows that earned her her name, were wide and hopeful and brilliantly alert despite how tired she always seemed to be. His own eggs were waiting right alongside her, and even Dapper, who Phil wouldn’t have expected to show up for something like this, was regarding him with a look of unrestrained curiosity. Phil wondered when this came up and who had spread the rumors, although he bet it was either Chayanne or Tallulah.
Phil sighed, carefully shelving his plans for the day. “What do you want to know?”
That seemed to take them aback - the five of them clustered together to discuss, because this apparently hadn’t been taken into consideration before. Phil watched the huddle, amused, and waited for them to decide on something.
When they pulled back, it was Dapper who stalked to the front of the group, puffed out his chest, and signed confidently, Teach us to fly.
Phil’s eyebrows shot through the roof. “You want me to teach you that?”
You’re one of the only flying people on the island, Pa, Tallulah pointed out. Baghera is nice but we know you are the best flyer. Teach us?
The fledglings are ready to leave the nest, Kristen said unexpectedly. Phil wanted to agree, but he still hesitated, eyes lingering over the five pairs of folded wings he saw before them. It was not a secret that at some point or another the dragonets would need to be taught such a thing, but their wings still seemed so small , little scraps of paper in comparison the big black sails that rested on his own back. And pretty much everyone on the server used the gliders, anyway, so why couldn’t they wait a bit longer?
At some point, they are going to have to learn , Kristen’s voice was more stern than Phil was used to hearing. If they cannot do it now, then they will know to be patient. But if they are ready and you refuse to teach them, they may try to learn on their own.
Phil cringed. That, more than anything else, would be dangerous. He tried to imagine Chayanne or Tallulah squaring up at the edge of the cliff-face by their yard, preparing to jump, and found himself horrified at the thought.
“That’s really the thing you want to learn.” Phil found himself confirming. “Not anything else?”
Little Leo shoved her way to the front of the pack, purple and green wings flapping excitedly behind her. ¡Estamos listos!
“Well, alright then.” Phil fervently hoped he was doing the right thing. Over the tops of the dragonets heads he could see his flock of crows gathered together on the roof of his house, silent and watchful. At his agreement to help the crows all started vocalizing as one, startling the eggs and prompting Dapper to throw something at them, which made them all scatter. Phil shook his head but found himself grinning. If the kids wanted to learn this from him then… then he’d try. He’d try his hardest. They deserved the best from him, after all.
Thirty minutes later, Phil had found a much safer spot for them to learn than up by his house, with a drop over water that couldn’t have been more than fifteen feet at the tallest. Phil stood at the edge, wings partially spread to catch the slight breeze that was running along the grass and over into the water like an invisible waterfall. The dragonets stood facing him, expressions ranging from slight apprehension to bright-eyed excitement.
Phil wasn’t sure how he was going to do this. Techno had once asked him about the mechanics of flight and Phil hadn’t really been able to give him an answer; so much of flying was instinct, something he was sure the dragonets would have, as all winged creatures did. But that wasn’t going to be reassuring to them as they stood over the drop and prepared to leap into the unknown.
He had them all spread out and stretch their wings to their fullest expanse, double-checking once again that they would have the surface area needed to even get airborne. Their wings were stretched bone, muscle, and skin; different from his own and yet the mechanics would be roughly the same, so he wasn’t too worried about that. But without a protective covering of feathers those wings were so fragile …
Stop worrying , Kristen tried to soothe him, a gentle brush against his jaw and another warm shift of sensation on his shoulder to draw him out of his anxious thoughts. All winged things must take the leap, you know this .
I don’t think I’m ready for it, Phil freely admitted, thoughts of broken wings and frightened kids screaming through his head. Too many ‘what ifs’...
There will always be a ‘what if.’ This cannot stop you from doing what must be done.
Phil took a deep breath, held it, then let it out. Chayanne looked a little concerned, but then his eyes cleared and he signed a slow, It’s okay, Papa. We’re ready .
Maybe they were, but Phil wasn’t sure if he was. If he’d ever be.
But this wasn’t about him.
“Flying is a lot about instinct.” He finally ended up saying, because that would always be true regardless of him trying to give them concrete details or not. “When you’re in the air, the sensation of wind on your wings, the feeling of weightlessness… it’s going to trigger those instincts for you, so I promise you that no matter how nervous you are, your body will know what to do to keep you up in the air once you’re up there.”
“The tricky part is leaving the ground, and getting back to the ground.” Phil went on, carefully gauging the dragonet’s reactions to his words. So far, there was only a slight show of nerves, and mostly he saw eagerness. “You need to push hard to get into the air, harder than you have before. You need all the strength and area of your wings to catch the air and propel you upwards. Are you ready to see?” He knows the dragonets have seen him fly before, but he’s uncertain if they’d ever watched and studied. Thankfully, all five nodded, watching with utmost attentiveness.
Phil stepped to the edge of the hill they were on, surveying the water below. He motioned for the dragonets to take a few steps back. If he was on his own, he’d simply throw himself into a freefall before taking flight mid-air, but he wanted the dragonets to see a controlled take-off. Muscle strength and control was essential .
He waited until he was sure they were ready, then turned and spread his wings, letting them see the full extent of his wingspan and how they waited, poised, to be thrust downwards. An excited little giggle from behind had him grinning, but then he focused, readied himself, and pushed .
This was not his favorite takeoff position, and it was one of the most difficult, but when the dragonets jumped they needed to know to make this first essential downwards thrust. He felt the muscles in his wings bunch and shift, his primaries tracing along the ground as they moved downwards, and the force propelled him straight upwards into the air.
There were a few yelps from below; Phil, several feet into the air, drew himself out over the water and immediately twisted so he could see what caused the commotion. He couldn’t help but laugh when he saw several of the dragonets scrambling to their feet with huge eyes; his takeoff must have blasted them backwards. He wasted no time in getting within shouting range before circling, explaining his movements while he was in the air.
“You need to keep your body stiff and in control,” He called, watching those dragon-like irises flick back and forth to keep track of his movements, like a litter of kittens watching the same moving toy. “If you sag, your wings have to compensate for being dragged down on.” He let his body loosen to demonstrate, feeling the immediate strain in his back, shoulders, and wing muscles and he immediately began angling towards the ground. He stiffened again, flight-path straightening, and beat his wings twice to gain more altitude. “Lean and twist your torso to steer, and your head leads you either down or up.”
Leo unexpectedly started to jump in place, signing so quickly that Phil almost couldn’t follow. Like the gliders!
“Exactly!” Phil praised. He circled again, then warned them he was coming in for a landing.
“You beat your wings backwards when you come in for a landing, otherwise you’re going to fucking faceplant in the dirt.” Phil demonstrated as he came in before them, beating backwards a few times to slow his descent before landing gracefully on the grass, talons gripping the dirt and locking him in place. “The finesse is going to take practice, but that’s pretty much the basics.”
There were some things that were going to be different. The absence of feathers would change the feel of the air, the way wind slipped over the wing and how it felt curved underneath it. Phil didn’t bring up feather uses and their movements because it simply wasn’t applicable, but it did mean that there was going to be a difference in experience that might make an impact on his teaching and their results.
Stop overthinking it, Kristen admonished, and for a moment her voice was layered with another’s. Just do it, Phil .
“If you’re ready, we can start practicing.” Phil told them, being sure to add, “and if you want to try another day, that is okay . Don’t hold yourself to any kind of made up standards, okay guys?”
The dragonets eyed each other, potentially seeing who had the courage to go first. Phil found himself beaming, chest swelling with pride, when Chayanne narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, meeting him at the ledge.
“There we go.” Phil’s voice came out sounding… different, than he’d expected. Softer. He was okay with that. “Are you ready?”
Chayanne squared his shoulders, nodding. He looked nervous, but also determined. He’d always been brave. Behind him, his golden wings spread wide, and he waited for Phil’s instruction.
“Go to the ledge, jump as high as you can, and push those wings down.” Phil reminded him. “As hard and as fast as you can. Don’t panic if you feel yourself start to fall, you have plenty of space to gain altitude. And even if you don’t, that’s okay, mate. Don’t feel pressured.”
I can do this , Chayanne signed, stepping up to the ledge. Phil’s stomach did a funny little dance seeing him there, and he had to remind himself that the worst thing that could happen was that Chayanne fell into the water, which wasn’t very far below. This was safe, this was okay .
Chayanne readied himself, legs crouched, muscles tense, wings spread and raised. Phil gently reached out and traced a talon along the edges of those wings, coaxing them into a better position, then said softly, “Whenever you’re ready.” Behind them, the other dragonets waited with bated breath.
Chayanne paused, wiggled a little bit like a cat preparing to pounce, and then when Phil thought his poor anxious heart couldn’t take it any longer, he leapt .
It was a big jump, and those wings pushed down immediately like Phil had told him to, and for a few heart wrenching moments the dragonet went over the edge and dipped from his sight… then rose .
Into the sky, up and up, golden wings beating frantically as he wobbled to try and stay airborne, but he was .
His kid was flying .
“YES!” Phil didn’t care that he was screaming, didn’t care that he was jumping up and down like a madman, because Chayanne was flying .
FLYING.
Phil was off the ledge and up into the air with him in a heartbeat, catching up to his altitude in the span of a single wingbeat, quickly slipping underneath and then in front of him to help smooth out the air. “You’re doing great! Don’t panic, Chayanne, just breathe. You don’t have to beat your wings constantly.”
Chayanne stilled, eyes huge and filled with a very chaotic mix of excitement and terror, and allowed himself to simply glide. Breaths coming slightly ragged, he looked forward at Phil for approval, for comfort, for something . Phil hoped the dragonet could see his excitement. “You’re doing great, mate.”
Chayanne smiled at him, the sight of it like sunshine emerging from storm clouds, and Phil slowly helped direct him into a large, lazy circle, teaching him how to feel for currents to keep him aloft or lift him higher, how to navigate alongside the winds instead of against them. The dragonet wobbled and wavered but the fear on his face smoothed into determination once again, and when Phil climbed higher with another wingbeat then Chayanne was there alongside him, wingbeats much smoother and steadier.
Below, the other dragonets were ecstatic; jumping up and down, Dapper was firing some kind of air-cannon, Pomme blowing excited notes on her flute. They all would need this kind of attention as well, so as much as Phil wanted to keep looping through the sky with Chayanne, he carefully helped the dragonet aim lower towards the ground.
Phil landed first, prepped and ready to grab Chayanne in case his landing went horribly wrong. It was… rough, but he got the basics, and Phil snagged him before those running steps could result in the dragonet tumbling head over heels. He could feel Chayanne shaking, from excitement or fatigue he couldn’t say, but that massive grin never left the dragonets face when he hugged him tight and fast, then sprinted off to go sign rapidly to the other dragonets.
They spent the rest of the day like that, Phil coaxing them each into the sky for the very first time. It was unlocking a kind of joy in Phil’s heart that he hadn’t experienced in… well, in a very long time, too long to remember specifics. Not that he spent his days unhappy, but there was something about sharing such an integral part of himself with another, about watching someone experience this joy for the first time, that set his heart ablaze. Gods above, this was glorious.
Kristen would have her go at him later, he was sure. She’d tease him about his hesitancy and his fear, and he would be ready for it. But now, she rejoiced with him, vast wings spreading on a plane he couldn’t see but could feel , the shade and weight of their existence covering him in a shroud. It was like he could feel her in the wind as he looped around with the little ones, like she slipped under and around and through the spaces of sky he frequented, and he could imagine her laughing in ecstasy alongside him as they flew.
But it was bittersweet, because Phil had wanted to take another flight like this with someone long ago, and he’d never get that chance. Oh, to see Techno up here, even if it was in that big, noisy lump of metal. To see the wind tugging at his ears and that red cloak flowing behind him, to laugh when his friend opened his mouth and caught a bug to the throat like he had on many occasions because he never learned .
You know , Kristen murmured to him later that night, when after the flying and celebrating and Phil taught me to fly! ’s had faded, he’s proud of you .
Phil paused in the hallway, having just tucked Chayanne and Tallulah in bed with ice packs ready in case they woke up with sore wings. Those words struck a chord in him, something that brought an unexpected lump to his throat and caused his hand to ball itself into a fist against the wall. What?
He knows you never got to fly with him like you wanted, Kristen spoke softly, but he’s watched you, saw you teach those fledglings to soar today, and he’s proud. He’s so proud of you, Angel.
Phil worked his jaw but couldn’t summon any words, even when hot trails formed on his cheeks and the lump in his throat tightened to something agonizing. But he was thankful, and even as he mourned he found himself smiling. No criticisms for once, huh?
Not even one, Kristen’s smile was there, invisible but almost tangible in its vibrancy. Most of his crows were roosting in his room, asleep, but one or two flew out to join him, snuggling up against his jaw until he could feel their pulses in his throat, slow and steady. Although, he says he probably would have had something, but you didn’t give him any flight details when you spoke of it before . You can’t critique unless you have all the details.
And that… that brought out a laugh, a harsh and choked thing that turned into a sob before Phil could stop it, knees growing weak and prompting him to slide to the ground, wings curled around him. It wasn’t the first time he had cried and it wouldn’t be the last, but there was comfort here, a reminder that Techno wasn’t really gone, not in the ways it mattered. That even if Phil would never see him or hear his voice again that didn’t mean those things didn’t exist in his memories, or that those big, gentle hands that could crush skulls wouldn’t live on in the ways he’d shown those dragonets to polish and sharpen a sword, or plant potatoes.
And to know that he was proud - proud - of what he was doing, teaching those dragonets to fly…
Maybe this kind of crying was okay.
Yeah, it was okay.
He was okay.