Deceit

In answer of how class went, they sat the tape recorder they had made down, “Took extensive notes as you asked! Prof said nothing, but sent his well wishes. The rest of them looked relieved that you weren’t there to ask all the questions, but I could tell they were disappointed we didn’t get enlightened by your wisened presence.” a playful wink, sitting at the chair and helping themselves. “Don’t sweat it, Ast. We all get like that from time to time. I think you’re often telling me I should ‘take care of myself’, so here’s me gently returning it to you.”

He rolled his eyes where she couldn't see. It was in good nature, but still.

The healer sprinted to reach him, stopping just long enough to summon enough ice and snow to form a compact snowball. This would work to get Shadow Milk’s attention, in the very least. But before he threw it, he opened a portal behind him, grinning as he then threw it at the jester.

“You’re so angry, aren’t you? Then why don’t we fight it about where others won’t get involved. Because it’s always about me, isn’t it?”

And then the flame reignited into a flame that even managed to immediately melt the remaining snowflakes desperately trying to cling unto him. Shadow Milk raged, screaming out like he was alone in the Spire all over again because for what did acting out matter. If Pure Vanilla wanted to play a game, it was nigh time a reminder which of them reigned the superior game master. Silver or no silver.

His form melted into darkness, and the snake of a shadow slithered towards the portal.

Inside, the form of the beast remained in hiding. Portal closed and rather than immediately lashing out against this fool of a thief, the other realm shifted in a savage fight of Shadow Milk's own control clashing with that of Truth's.

“It’s hard to say.” he began slowly, braiding the damp hair so that it wouldn’t get in the way. “I’ve met the others – for the most part. They’re all different, there are some similarities, but the differences…” his gaze shifted, staring at the door that led out to his bedroom. “I would say in a fair fight, at least three of you would remain standing, all things considered.”

Where was an outlet when he needed one. Ripped pages, splashed pain, setting fires- any of them would do right now. And all he could do was bunch fists into this shabby robe and take the treatment like some knock off puppet left at a thrift shop.

"You've said enough."

It needled the jester to be told that, but sometimes the harsh reminder was necessary. Especially after pulling that stunt today by poking and prodding at Maestro the way he did –

     it had to be said.

In either case, the healer got out of the sudsy bath and grabbed his own towel, pressing it against his face to get the worst of the water out of it.

“What I did was in defense of you.” he said simply, voice muffled. “Intervention is not always a slight to be made, but to protect.” Pure Vanilla pulled the towel away, ignoring how heavy his hair was with all the water, holding it in one hand to gently rest his hand on Shadow Milk’s shoulder. “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you’re smart enough to figure out when it’s time to beat a hasty retreat. But there are some battles you simply cannot win when it comes to other versions of myself and their Shadow Milks.”

A cyan eye peeked over at the trick imparted to the lesser beastly creature. Perhaps that would make up for it, and in that regard, maybe never getting an apology would be the greatest slap in the face at the other variant. Aster's lips twitched at a threatened smile trying to imagine Maestro bash every piano to pieces to figure out why his instrument became a flock of ducks.

Picking through something dry and not stained... he dug around until finding one of Pure Vanilla's robes- opting for a soft purple, and slipping it over for the time being before turning his attention back over with a hard stare.

"So be honest, since that's your thing... You say we can't win against our other selves if things turn south. Would you still say that even if my dough wasn't tainted? I want to know how weak you think I am to them."

“I understand your frustrations, and I understand your anger, but I will not stand by and watch you get tag-teamed by other versions of you because you chose to poke and prod at their weak spots.” he snapped back, “I’m going to tell you a very unhappy truth, Shadow Milk, and it’s that you are not at full strength despite what you think. Me intervening saved your damned life. Again, may I add.”

Upon reestablishing his illusion of normalcy to hide the imperfections, Aster released his grip with a harsh shove like this was a wet waste of time before moving to pull himself out of the water to properly dry off. "When I get my body, I'm taking back your soul jam and erasing all of their existences. But I don't know what's worse right now. Maestro ruining my hair or you not not bothering to step in to my defense despite all your claims to care," he finished with a murmur.

Pure Vanilla was thankful that he had chosen to not wear the white robes today, utterly drenched in bubbles and water that was stained with the yellow dye. A splutter, as he gripped the edges of the bathtub, blinking at the blurry, blue colours that was Shadow Milk.

"You know exactly what. I'm beginning to feel like you really are out to make a bigger fool of me," he hissed. The jester grabbed the collar of those robes and shoved him deeper into the water, threatening just enough to where he could still hear.

The healer won’t say anything, because he can tell Aster’s sulking. Instead, he’s going to simply hum a bit, before, “Did you want me to leave you to sulk, or were you going to demand company?”

Watching the dye drip from his hair and into the water, the passing duckie floating by almost appeared melting were it actually from the bath toy. The silence between them was the saving grace of what kept one of them from drowning in this moment.

He sighed- grumbling beneath the towel and brush. Dread seeing the the extent of the damage to his hair that was already less than perfect. The eyes in his hair blinked at every stroke, shifting between their strained, fake eyesight and ruined glare at the hero.