Hallo I hope you have a good day! TECHNO SUPPORT :))

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{Dream POV}

THAT STUPID PIG! I CAN'T STAND HIM!! I TRY TO BE NICE TO THE ONE PERSON THAT HASN'T COMPLETELY TURNED THEIR BACK ON ME, AND THEY END UP SACRIFICING PRETTY MUCH THE ONLY CHANCE THEY'LL GET TO ESCAPE THE PRISON TO TELEPORT ME OUT!

An involuntary shiver racks my body, nearly sending me to my knees. Grabbing the wall out of instinct, I manage to stay on my feet. Goosebumps erupt across my exposed skin, and my teeth start to chatter. It seems that the teleportation worked. 

Folding my arms into my chest to preserve body heat, I glance around the room I've landed in, trying to get my bearings. I appear to be in an attic of sorts, and turning to the side, I find the source of the chilly draft.

A large, rectangular window juts out of the wall, adding a good foot of height to that part of the ceiling. It sits slightly ajar as though someone had tried to shut it hastily, but didn't do it correctly. I step toward it carefully, still leaning against the wall.

Once I get close enough, I grab the worn brass handle attached to the window with my hand and pull. At first, it doesn't budge. Then, I grasp it with both hands, straining my withered muscles. Finally, the wood groans, shifting a little. With one last grunt of effort on my part, the window closes with a quiet slam, and I stumble backward.

Finding the wall behind me with my hands, I slump against it, sliding to the floor.

A weak little laugh escapes my mouth as my body hits the cold wooden planks. Closing that window would have been an easy thing to do before I was thrown into prison. Now though? Now, it takes most of my strength to shut even that little bit. Techno could probably shut that thing with one hand, even in his current weakened state.

That though makes me smile a bit. Even compared to me, he's really freaking strong. In terms of brute strength, he's the strongest in the entire SMP, no questions asked. He's also got a high level of intelligence, and a mind for strategy that rivals my own. He'll probably be fine by himself in Pandora's Vault. Probably.

Thinking of Techno still trapped in the prison gives me the motivation I need to get me moving again. 

I push myself to my feet once more, scanning the attic for a way out. A wall of chests catches my eye, as does the golden bell hanging from a chain in the center of the ceiling, but I ignore both things in favor of the ladder poking out of the floor in the corner by the window.

I move towards it cautiously, leaning heavily against the wall. I think the light-headedness I feel might be because of the fact that I haven't had a good meal in months, but really, who knows. 

Gripping the smooth wooden sides so tightly that my knuckles go white, I slowly clamber down the ladder, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief once my feet make contact with the floor. Glancing around quickly, I realize that I've ended up in a narrow hallway with doors on both sides. Spotting a staircase, I decide to try that before the doors, and make my way over to it.

Descending the steps, I note happily that the temperature is spiking significantly, and I am no longer shivering. The stairwell deposits me in another hallway, but I can just spot the edge of an oven inside one of the doorways. Maybe it's a kitchen? My stomach grumbles loudly, and I sigh. I've gotta get food before I do anything else. I need to get at least a little bit of my strength back. 

Entering the room, I discover that it is in fact a kitchen. There are cabinets and marble counter-tops just like there are in L'manburg, which confuses me slightly. Who would be willing to install countertops for a bloodthirsty anarchist in middle of the arctic? 

I discard that line of though and walk over to the refrigerator, opening it. I am relieved to see that only most of the food is potato related; not all. 

Grabbing a loaf of bread, I nibble it slowly, savoring the flavor. It's not the best bread I've ever had, but it is the first loaf I've had in years, which makes it taste pretty freaking good to me.

 While I'm focused on my loaf, a faint (but persistent) tapping sound puts me on high alert. I follow the noise into another room, (with all the comfy-looking couches in it, I am led to believe that it is the living room.) and am startled to see a raven- no, a crow- tapping impatiently on the window with its beak. 

Without thinking, I rap on the glass with my knuckles. I relax slightly as it hops away from the window and flies off towards the forest surrounding the cabin. I know it's stupid, but something in my gut told me that the bird was gonna give me away. 

Still nibbling on my bread, I take the time to actually observe the room I'm standing in. There are several bookshelves lining each wall, three tall, rectangular windows, and so. Many. Weapons. 

Weapons of every tool and enchantment lay scattered around the room. Tridents, axes, crossbows, swords. You name it, Techno owns it. The most surprising thing about them honestly isn't their diversity, or the fact that they're everywhere, it's the sheer number of them.

Countless swords are mounted proudly on the walls alongside Technos prized hoes. Bows and tridents are littered across the floor, and axes peek out from under couches. There are even a few dusty fireballs piled all but forgotten on top of one of the bookshelves! 

I was admiring the organized chaos, when my ears picked up a muffled voice coming from outside the door.

"-in the house you say? But it's not Ranboo, or anyone you know? Interesting..." I quickly slip behind one of the couches as the voice gets closer, my eye just barely peeking out over it. 

I could hear the door opening and shutting again quietly, as though the owner of the voice didn't want to alert anybody to their presence.

The newcomer walks out into the hallway, and I see shoulder length blonde hair topped by a green and white striped hat. Philza. 

A small smile makes its way onto my face, and I move to stand up. This is Techno's friend! The pinket had talked almost nonstop about Phil in the prison, going on and on about how kind and caring the man was.

 And then I remember that while Phil is most certainly Technoblade's friend, that doesn't mean he is mine. Unfortunately, the small movement of me sitting back down brings Phil's attention to the couch I am hiding behind. 

"Wha-? Is that... hair?" The older man mutters, walking into the room with silent steps. "Tommy?" He calls softly, getting uncomfortably close to the couch. My mind is on red alert, but I cannot see a way out of this situation. "is that you?" Hearing no reply, Phil peeks over the back of the couch.

{Phil's POV}

"Tommy?" I call the blond's name softly, "is that you?" One of my newer crows reported seeing an unfamiliar person inside me and Techno's house. Techno.. 

I still haven't been able to figure out a foolproof plan, -or any plausible plan, really- to get him out of that prison. I shake my head slightly after a moment, clearing away those dark thoughts, and lean over the back of my second-favorite couch, trying to figure out which traumatized child has snuck into my house this time. 

I recoil slightly when I see who it actually is. It's a blond young man with bruises littering his exposed skin. Scars crisscross his arms and legs, dried blood and dirt are caked to his tear-streaked face. I can only see a single emerald colored eye thanks to the badly broken mask he's wearing. Dream.

"Just what the hell-!" I start, confusion and anger rippling across my expression. However, I pause when I notice the tears forming in the corner of his eye. He's scared. Scared far more than the most dangerous man in the SMP should be. Something is very wrong.

With a sigh, I hold my hand out to him, forcing down my surprise when he flinches away. Feeling no violence, he turns to look back up at me, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over.

 "C'mon mate, get up." I sigh again. Am I going to have to adopt another child?

Dream reaches out hesitantly and grabs my hand. I pull him up into a standing position with surprising ease, only now noticing how thin he looks. With a dark chuckle, I scan him from top to bottom, noting the way his hands tremble slightly. 

"Seems like the puppet master has lost a few pounds." I point out casually. Dream cringes away, pulling his hand from mine like it burned him. I realize too late that I've crossed a line as the blond's body posture curls in on itself. It almost seems like he's trying to become smaller then he already is. 

Deciding to shut up before I ruin things entirely, I take a closer look at the man in front of me. There's no denying it, the kid is skinny. I mean, an unhealthy skinny. Also, I might be an old man, but my memory is still reliable, and I don't remember seeing even half those scars on Doomsday. Some look pretty fresh, too.

What I find craziest though, is that the scars look like they were made by a sword, but no one's supposed to have been able to bring a sword to visit him. Judging by the freshest scar that I can see, roughly a month and a half ago he had a visitor who brought a sword into his cell. And a month and a half ago, Techno was in the cell with him. 

"Dream!" I shout, forgetting to be gentle with him as I grip his shoulders. He tenses beneath my touch, the eye I can see blown wide in shock. "Is Techno alright? Is he injured?" At the sound of Techno's name, a confusing mix of emotions flashes across Dreams face.

"N-no.." He mumbles, looking anywhere but me. His voice is hoarse, as though he's got a sore throat or something. "I didn't let him get h-hit.." 

"What?" I ask, still confused, but this time for a different reason.

"W-when He came, I tried to get in f-front of the blows.." He finishes, still not meeting my eye. I'm unclear on some points, but the best course of action right now is to help Dream get better so that I can get the answers I need. 

"Alright." I reply, softening my tone. "Can you come with me?" I ask, coaxing the skittish man around the side of the couch and into the kitchen. 

After rummaging through the cabinets a bit, I take out a dark-pink potion and a slice of pie, showing him both of them. I've decided that allowing him to choose whether or not to trust me is the best course of action for now. 

"This potion will put you to sleep in a few minutes. It tastes very sweet." I explain to him. A look of confusion and  discomfort ripples across his face, but I ignore it for now. "I am going to pour it onto this pie. If you eat this, it will make you go to sleep so that I can tend to your wounds without you being in pain. You don't have to eat the pie if you would prefer to to stay conscious, but we need to clean you up." Glancing between the two things in my hands, Dream nods slowly. 

As promised, I place the the pie slice onto the counter and uncork the potion. Tipping it to the side slightly, I drizzle the pink liquid across the top of the slice, then hand it to Dream after setting the potion bottle down. He eats it silently, and when he's finished, he sways gently before crumpling to the floor with a soft thud.

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PHILZAAAAAAA