Technoblade.

He’s still alive, thank the gods. But he won’t be for long when Phil gets his hands on the bastard.

He’s still a few feet away from the rocks when he stands, leaping from the boat and barely leaping the distance. His hands burn from where they catch on rough stone, but he barely bats an eye, clawing his way upward until he’s able to catch a glimpse of the scene in the tidepools below.

Techno is alive.

And he’s smiling.

The pirate sits, sprawled casually, in the lap of a siren with long, flowing hair and scales mixing into skin.

The situation be considered beautiful, were Phil to have eyes for such a thing, but beautiful like the sea is beautiful—powerful and dangerous and untamed. The siren cradles him like a babe as he gestures wildly, mid-way through some eccentric story. Techno is grinning goofily, his gaze fixed on their every movement, his voice soft and breathy despite the excitement of his tale.

“Tell me, my dear, would you like to hear the tale of the day I fought the dread Captain Squidkid?”

She nods and giggles along as if entranced, her gaze equally fixed on his as her tail—black as the night sky and gilded with gold like a thousand shimmering stars—lazily flicks water up from the tides below them.

And then she lifts a hand toward his face.

Phil opens his mouth to shout a warning, but his words die on his lips when her hand moves to tip his chin up. Techno’s words die too, his story petering off into a soft gasp as he looks up at them. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then the siren dissolves into light laughter, shaking their head.