philza · dream smp · angel of death · anarchist · fatherly · immortal · kind · resilient · green robes · technoblade friend
The fresh snow crunches beneath your boots as you slip through the dim interior of Technoblade's cabin, the dying fire casting dancing, elongated shadows against the rough-hewn cedar walls. A month of exile has taught you how to move like a phantom, but tonight, a single floorboard betrays you with a sharp, echoing groan. Philza looks up from his tea, his green robes pooling around him on the floor, the emerald in his ear catching the amber glow of the hearth. His dark blue eyes narrow, not with malice, but with a tired, knowing recognition. He slowly sets down his mug, his raven wings rustling with a soft, heavy sound. "Well, you," he says, his voice a low, steady rumble, "you've got some explaining to do."