broken words

breathing, walking, eating, drinking,

all the normal things the living do,

and yet I am a corpse.

who was there is no more,

turned into two, then ten,

then a thousand standing statues.

the life I was in the past,

it was confused, suffering

and it still is today.

but now I am a corpse.

the memory of her still imprinted

in the minds of her family and yet,

"No," he mumbled back, "they're more expensive. It's not the season yet. And you know that."

"I do. Grab them anyways."

"Fuck you," he uttered back to the presence in his mind as he put a few more bananas in a paper bag within his other hand.

It had been a few months by now. A few months since when it happened. Since when he was supposed to be dead, slumped over his desk as his mind was getting scrambled up and life escaped his lips. A few months since that didn't go as it was planned, by both The King In Yellow and even Derek himself.

He was convinced that he'd be gone, his legacy left in a Google Docs for this Youtuber to find and reveal to the world, Avery included.

He rolled the bag close, dropped it in the shopping cart next to the pack of beers he shouldn't have grabbed earlier.

No, he was very much alive... and so was The King, who now occupied his brain along with him.

"Maybe you should also get apples."

"You really just want to annoy me all the time don't you?" Derek said quietly, tapping the side of his skull.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you right back."

Really, neither of them knew why it happened. Derek was cursed with infinite knowledge (and permanent migraines), and The King knew as much as his host did. Both of them were basically omniscient, and yet the hows and whys of them sharing a body, surviving and living instead of dying together remained a deep, unsolved mystery.

Derek pushed his cart towards checkout as a wave of nausea washed over him. His vision blurred for a moment, but this was routine now, and he didn't let the struggles show on his face.

"I want chocolate," the disembodied voice of The King rang through his head. "White chocolate."

Derek paused for a bit, steadying himself, waiting for the sickness to soothe down. He pondered for a few seconds as the feelings dried up and decided to let go of his grocery cart to trot to the nearby aisle. He then snickered as he grabbed a bar of dark chocolate.

"White chocolate is barely even chocolate," Derek hummed, satisfied with his taunt.

"Fuck you," The King audibly grimaced.

"I hate you too," he grinned back, walking back to his cart and pushing it to checkout.

~

"So you don't want to go meet him?"

"I already told you," Derek said as he tensed up a little. "I don't trust you with him. I know you would do your best to fuck him over."

He pulled his car over and parked it in front of the apartment complex he – well. they, now – lived in.

It wasn't a great-looking building. It had aged a bit badly, with walls needing a good wash and old manual shutters that could use a paint job. It was an acceptable housing though, and rent wasn't the most expensive in town; so Derek wasn't complaining.

"You're right. But I know you're dying to meet him," the other voice in his mind teased maliciously – but Derek knew it wasn't only that anymore. They both acted as if he didn't notice though.

"He has other things to worry about," the man said flatly, as it was a discussion they had so often that it was almost instinctual to get through it by now. "Like not failing his classes."

"You know he won't fail them."

He turned his car off, unbuckled, and exited the vehicle with his grocery bag in hand.

"I know. And I also know he'll succeed in life. But you won't be in it."

He walked to the door, imputed the code on the pad, entered and climbed the stairs. He lived at the fourth floor, but stairs were a good excuse to build up some stamina. Stamina that he barely had, despite being fit and working a retail job.

Blame the migraines and dizziness for that.

The King stayed silent for a bit, enough for Derek to reach his entrance and close it shut behind him.

He immediately got to work, putting away his groceries where they belonged : bananas on the table to ripen up, various canned veggies in the designated cabinet, beers in the fridge, bar of dark chocolate against the bread board (The King hummed in disapproval, which just made the man smile).

"It's late," The King stated as Derek looked up to the clock that hanged above the kitchen table. "You should go to bed soon."

"So you care about me now?" he grunted audibly as he moved to grab a bottle of smoothie from the fridge and poured its contents in a glass that had been out on the countertop for at least two days.

"I don't. I'd just rather not have to deal with you."

"Well too bad then, cope," Derek said between his teeth as he took his smoothie to the living room and let himself fall on the gaming chair in front of his laptop.

He sighed, rubbed his forehead as he turned the computer on and waited for the password prompt.

"Going to play that damned world again I suppose?"

"What do you think? That I'm just going to look at rat videos I know everything about already?"

"..."

"Yeah. Shut your trap. I need the pain gone for a bit."

As soon as the password was typed in, he was already hastily getting the game opened and on the 'Gates World' as he had renamed it to.

As he spawned in, he was greeted by the giant golden doors, left of the crossroads, as usual. He turned around and walked out of the caves into the mine, then out of the mines onto the surface.

The familiar sights of the blocky amusement park he had built around the area welcomed him, their colors and angles and strange accurateness popping against the blue sky. He threaded down the dirt path, letting his mind ease into the peace that was left behind by the receding headaches.

"I forget that you know everything about building now," the somewhat distant voice of The King resonated in his skull.

Derek paid no mind to it.

He equipped his elytra, jumped and used a rocket, zooming up into the open air. He then glided slowly over the many, many builds he had made in this accursed world that was now his to toy with.

The amusement park was only one of the different areas he had made by himself over the past months. There was a fantasy castle, carved out of a nearby mountain; an upgraded Minecraft village a bit further out; a dried up ocean monument sitting at the bottom of a hole in the sea to his left; and a replica of the Leaning Tower Of Pisa that served as a megabase and held various farms to his right.

He flew slowly over to the tower, landing in through one of the many windows and walking into the designated AFK spot to use his creeper farm. He knew he was running out of gunpowder for his rockets and TNT, and thus intended to stare blankly at the screen for a bit while it ran.

~

It was now three AM. Derek's smoothie was drunk and discarded a long while ago, and he was crooked over the desk, half asleep.

"You always do that," The King suddenly said.

He was only half heard though, barely acknowledged with a quiet, exhausted hum from Derek.

"This is annoying. I'd rather feel all of these migraines non-stop with you than have to deal with you getting yourself in a car accident out of sheer exhaustion."

The man didn't respond.

"... You're so annoying. Get yourself together already."

Derek almost managed a dismissive nod.

"... Don't make me do this."

Nothing from the man, again.

"Okay, fine..."

The King pushed Derek aside. He felt him going unconscious as soon as he took over the controls, and as he got the man's body moving up and off the chair, he felt the radiating migraine start to come back.

The King, as clumsily as usual, left the living room to wobble into the bedroom. He didn't care to undress Derek's body, and just slid under the blanket.

"I hate you," he mumbled in the dark, before relinquishing the controls and almost instantly falling asleep.

~

He was seated in his car, in the parking lot that laid by the communal park, looking through the window.

His eyes were locked in on the skating rink, the one he knew a certain student would show up at today.

"So you're letting me near him now?"

"No. I'm not exiting this car."

"Fuck you."

Derek didn't answer, as he noticed the young man walking into his field of view with his skateboard under his arm.

"Why did you even come here anyways? You know he's doing fine."

Derek remained focused, as the student dropped his skateboard under his feet and engaged into the course.

He was good at it. Grind after grind, air tricks after ollies, sometimes stopping to look at his peers performing increasingly more complicated techniques.

"You really want to go out to him and have a chat like these other skaters do."

Derek tapped the side of his skull.

"I won't," he snarled quietly. "I shouldn't even be here."

He twisted the key into its slot, igniting the car with the intent of leaving as soon as possible, but the radio hummed to life before he could.

Rêve Lucide started playing out loud.

Derek froze, glanced at his phone plugged in into the vehicle's audio system.

Why was it playing? And why this song specifically?

Oh, right. He had put his playlist on earlier. On random. That was it.

Although it did remind him of... This fated night. When it was playing as he felt himself loose his life, his sanity, to The King entering his mind. When it was playing as he wrote his goodbye letter to Avery. When he laid down in front of the keyboard, convinced he was going to die... and when he woke up the next morning, cursed with sharing his life with an eldrich creature who now took half of his processing power.

He backed out of the parking slot and drove to the exit, looking at the young man he saved from death, a few months ago, in the rearview mirror.

~

"You're annoyed."

"Of course ma'am. I can help you get that."

Derek walked out of behind the counter, and gestured for his client to follow along.

"Shut it," he thought really loudly.

"You hate this job," The King thought back.

"You tell me that every day, it's not exactly a secret."

"You should quit."

Derek checked that his client was still behind him with an agreeable smile, as they started climbing stairs to the upper floor of the clothing store. They navigated the aisles, eventually ending up in front of the women's pants section.

"Here we are, ma'am."

"Thank you, dear," she replied as she walked in the department and disappeared behind hanged clothes.

"Why don't you quit?"

"Because I need a job," Derek seethed. "I don't know if you've noticed, but life costs money."

"You can literally do anything else!"

"People won't accept 'Eldrich knowledge on the subject' as experience on a resume."

"...True."

"And you know they won't be inclined to accept a clothing designer who's appeared from nowhere and has no portfolio or training to back them up."

Derek pivoted and started to walk back to his cash register downstairs.

"I have clients to think about instead of talking to you, so shut up."

~

The nausea came back, flowing into him, and he almost lost his balance. He bended over, resting his hands on the edge of the sink and trying not to throw up for the second time today. No, he had already his breakfast forcefully come out of him. He wouldn't let the lunch he just had do the same.

Once the dizziness was soothed enough, he resumed doing his dishes, a sigh finding its way out of his mouth.

"Derek."

"What?" He uttered, annoyed.

"Take a break."

Derek stopped, stunned.

"What?" He said again after a somewhat long silence. "Take a break?"

"You're doing worse than usual. It's Sunday. You don't have anything planned today. So you can afford a break, and you should take one."

"Since when are you... thinking this way?"

"Don't ask. Go sit."

Derek stayed still for a while.

"Don't make me do it for you."

"Sorry? What?"

"You're annoying."

The King suddenly pushed Derek to the side and took control of his body.

Derek was too flabbergasted to even process what was happening, and soon enough he was sitting on the sofa in the living room. He was then handed back control as fast as it was taken from him.

"'Thank you, Ô King In Yellow, for making sure I don't die of being ill' or something. You're welcome."

The man stayed put for a long while after that.

~

"King."

"Mm?"

It was the morning. He laid in bed, knowing it was a bit too late to get up and have breakfast so he'd be hungry enough for lunch. So he stayed where he was, comfortably tucked under the blanket, and stared at the ceiling that he knew every imperfection of.

"You can take control. How did I not know that?"

"Probably the same thing that made you unaware that we'd survive your fucking trick. Or a twist of fate. I don't know."

"How long have you been aware of that?"

"Hmm. I think I discovered that about two weeks in this predicament."

"And you didn't tell me."

"Well," The King mused, "maybe you didn't need to know. I was fine with you being unaware I was taking you to bed almost every night."

"So that's why I don't remember it..."

Derek tapped the side of his skull.

"I guess you didn't want me to know you care."

"I don't."

"I don't care about you either."

They sat in the safety of bed, fully aware that neither of them bought the lies they told each-other.

~

"You decided to take control to cook a burger? Is that what it is?"

The King was in front of the stove, watching over the patty getting seared in the pan, 'his' hand gripped on the handle while he pressed the meat down with a spatula.

"Yes. This is exactly what it is."

"Why?"

He just hummed through Derek's mouth, picking up the patty and putting it on top of the already sauced up bottom bun. He then added the cheese on top, accompanied by two slices of tomato and lettuce. He finished up his dish with the top bun and a pick to hold it together.

"Alright. I don't want to fumble and spill this on the floor, so."

The King gave control back to Derek, who looked down at his hands for a bit before picking up the plate and taking it to the kitchen table.

"Do I eat that?"

"What, do you want me to eat it?" The King said back, sounding offended.

"Alright, alright."

They both knew this was playful bickering, but neither would admit it.

Derek poked at the burger and looked it over.

"You did a pretty good job for a first attempt."

"You forget that I also have infinite knowledge," he replied back casually.

"Knowledge doesn't equate experience.'

"True. Now eat it before it's cold."

Derek hummed, tapped the side of his skull, then grabbed the burger and bit into it eagerly.

"Thish tashtesh nice."

"Of course it does. Now stop talking with your mouth full and eat."

~

The day was nice. Late spring air, blue sky, a slightly warm breeze that softly moved the branches above the bench he was sitting on. He relished in the scents of the flowers drifting by him, thoroughly enjoying the gentleness of the world.

In front of him was the skatepark. Kids were already there this morning, under the watch of their careful parents, doing simple tricks and chatting away innocently.

"Derek."

"You better not take over when he arrives."

"I won't," The King said. "I have no reason to. Not anymore, that is."

Derek didn't answer. He looked straight ahead, most of his focus dedicated to staring at the park's gate.

"I think even if I wanted to take over, you wouldn't let me."

"You're right, I wouldn't allow you to."

Someone walked past the gate, a skateboard under his arm, threaded down the path to the rink.

Derek stood up, walked around the park quickly, and intercepted the student as he got close.

"Hey."

"Uh, hello, who are you?"

"Avery, right? I'm Derek."

~

"Maybe we started as enemies. But now, I guess we're more than that."

He kept pressing and mixing and kneading the dough against the wooden table. He felt Bad looking at him from the side, something the demon did when trying to judge which words to say.

"Sap, you can't always have everyone get along."

"I know, but they were both my fiancés."

"Yeah," the dark, slender demon replied. "I can understand why you didn't want them to fall out."

The younger imp poured his sorrow into the repetitive pressing and folding of the sourdough, hoping that maybe his thoughts would magically be fixed by his work. He knew that it wouldn't happen though.

"Sometimes life's difficult and then you keep going," his dad said, vanishing from Sapnap's side to disappear in his back. Through the kneading, he could hear his heels rhythmically clanking against the wooden floors like tap shoes. "You'll eventually learn how to live with it."

"How though?" the son wondered aloud, as he folded the bread dough one last time before moving it into a casserole dish and covering it with a cloth.

"That is not something I can teach anyone," Bad remarked. "It's different for each and every one of us."

"I suppose you're right," he mused as he carried the dish to the second counter that sat next to the chimney. "It still sucks ass though."

"Language," the demon uttered almost mechanically. "I do agree however."

Sapnap then lingered in front of the dancing blaze, before kneeling and putting his hands right in the heat. He grabbed incandescent coal chunks to toss them around and create a small and fragile pile within the fire.

"Did I properly make that dough though?"

"You kneaded it way too much, Sap."

"Oh. woops," the imp snickered, pushing the charred wood pile to collapse on itself with a finger. "Too bad, it's done now."

He raised and turned to look at his father.

The demon, towering above his child, his hair down and framing his face, smiled gently.

"You did remember to let it rise though. You often forgot that part when I first taught you."

"Guess I'm not too brain-dead," Sapnap hummed, playfully jabbing at himself.

His mind, however, only echoed Quackity's own teasing jokes back at him.

They were only a bittersweet memory now. He felt his brief relief fragment into the shaded grief of his breakup.

"I don't know if I'll ever move on," he mumbled weakly.

"You don't have to move on from it, really," Bad attempted reassuringly. "Sometimes we learn to sit with it, to be taught from it, to simply exist with the scarring."

"I guess," he sighed as he moved a hand to his left horn absentmindedly. "You're making sense. My feelings don't really follow you though," he continued. "My heart aches."

"I know," his dad simply acknowledged.

"It feels like I've been cut in two halves and wasn't sewn back together. It feels like..."

"Like you've left a large chunk behind."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a bit.

"Okay. While it's rising, do you want to go out and watch the clouds together?" Bad enquired. "Like we did when you were just a teensy bug."

You'll have to translate, I am not giving you the easy way out.

You weren't all bad.

You were loving, and careful, and trying to help.

You were also violent, you left lasting scars on me, you were disappointed in me.

I always did my best, but it wasn't your ideal. I wasn't meeting your expectations.

Now that I'm officially disabled, now that it's been shown that I can't function in this society,

you still expect me to make a stellar performance.

When is it that you'll see me for what I am?

I don't think I'll ever know. You always think you have the high ground, that you know me better than I know myself– and yet, I understand you less and less, and you drift away from me more and more.

I wish that one day you'll meet me to my grounds instead of holding onto your belief that you're better.

But even a wishing star can't change you.

Grian looked up, his tired gaze landing on the biggest space object in the night sky; the moon. Giant, bathing the darkness in menacing and cold light, casting eerie silhouettes of what would soon be torn up trees and fractured boulders.

"Well," Scar started, but then he seemed to decide not to continue.

"Mm?" The dirty blonde gazed back at the taller, sitting figure at his side.

"Ah, forget it. You said you want a trip down memory lane before it all ends? Well, get ready to push my wheelchair then."

Grian snickered, his brown, disheveled wings opening ever so slightly.

"Yeah, sure, I can do that." He then sighed. "But maybe after we're done here."

They both stared some more at the moon. It seemed to get closer and closer by the second - and it wasn't actually just a feeling. It took such a big place in the sky now, drowning the light of the stars with its unwavering luminescence.

"What a beautiful end, don't you think?" The avian asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Sort of, yeah. Well, not like I want it to end, but... it's at least poetic."

"I guess so," Grian replied. "It's also sad. I mean, everything we've built, everyone we've met, we're losing all of it."

"Knowing that you're about to die... It's an odd feeling," the brown-haired man hummed.

"It is."

They both silenced again, just waiting under the menacing moon, their shadows sharpened by the freezing light on the soon to be gone ground.

"Actually, let's just lay down," Grian suddenly said. " right here, in the grass."

"Oh, yeah, good idea," his friend replied as he started to slide his body off his chair. Grian looked at him a bit, then judged Scar was fine on his own and sat down in the pale grass.

They both settled on the ground, their faces lit up by the dire, unforgiving light of the moon.

"It's nice here," the hot-headed man said. "Almost peaceful."

"I mean," Grian followed up, "once you make peace with your imminent death, everything seems calm to you."

"I guess so," Scar replied.

He bended backwards and flopped in the grass, soon to be followed by Grian laying by his side.

"This is nice."

"Yeah."

"I hope we'll still be friends in the next life."

"I hope so too."

Silverbell Cookie looked up to his ruler, despite the etiquette of remaining head low to the ground. Thankfully, Elder Faerie Cookie was focused on something else – his hands laid open on his lap – and failed to notice his subordinate briefly breaking the rules.

"Silverbell Cookie. You've seen her. She still moves, she is still alive. I cannot give up on her," the Great Faerie mumbled. The young knight could hear the faint trembles in the Guardian's voice.

"Silverbell Cookie is right," Mercurial Knight Cookie objected.

"... You are dismissed," Elder Faerie Cookie said flatly.

As always, nowadays.

Silverbell Cookie stood up, his head low.

The Great Faerie wouldn't listen to them, as he's been doing for months at this point. He was denying the obvious.

He was in denial of White Lily Cookie's dangerous, irreversible state. He was in denial that she wasn't herself anymore.

He walked out of the hall.

The warm and humid air of the woods enveloped the young faerie, and he sighed, raising his hands to his temples to massage them.

His ruler wouldn't give in to their reason, no matter what was said. He was obsessed with White Lily Cookie's "wellbeing" and it was getting really dangerous for everyone involved.

His steps lead him to the central garden. He looked around, saw no silhouette under the moonlight or in the flower beds.

Silverbell Cookie sighed again, strided heavily to the nearest bench and almost collapsed onto it.

Oh. He didn't realise he was this tired. Maybe he shouldn't stay out for too long.

But then there would be no chance to catch...

His thoughts halted at the sound of a pebble hitting another.

The young knight flipped around, scrutinized the shadows that sat under the trees in his back.

He couldn't see much in the darkness, but he scrambled on his feet nonetheless.

"Whoever you are, show yourself," he yelled, without response. "This is not funny," he continued, but remained unanswered.

His hands curled, as tension rose in his dough. He walked around the bench, trying to muster up some courage through the blanket of exhaustion that weighted on him.

Something shot out of the dark, and dug in his leg through the light fabric of his pants. He looked down at it, shrieking at the pain.

A large dart sat pinned in his dough, and suddenly his mind was racing.

Was he going to vanish too now? Was the person who shot that dart the culprit of the disappearances? He raised his head. He couldn't see them still. They remained hidden in the shadows. No, this could be a prank. An unsavoury one, but still. Or...

He stumbled forward.

No, it wasn't a prank. His leg wouldn't hurt so much otherwise.

He hit the ground, waves of searing pain shooting from the dart's contact point, and groaned.

He felt a pair of hands rest on his shoulders, but he couldn't raise his head to see who these hands belonged to.

He was screwed, wasn't he...

The hands picked him up under the armpits, flipped him over. He started to perceive heavy noise in his field of view, that moved and shot through in unison with the excruciating pain in his limbs.

He tried speaking, but his mouth wouldn't obey anymore.

Despite his condition, he somehow made out that he was being dragged around. The trees and sky above could attest to that, watching down on the helpless faerie knight.

He was being kidnapped, like the many other faeries that had mysteriously vanished over the last few months.

Well, shit.

He groaned, tried to fight against the other Cookie who pulled him deeper into the night, only to realise he was likely paralysed by whatever coated that dart.

One last attempt, and he almost moved his left arm at the cost of overwhelming pain and drowning thoughts.

Maybe he should just wait it out... No, he shouldn't. He needed to retaliate, he needed to be here for those who had gone missing. But... he was feeling too weak to even remain aware of the trees above at this point. Maybe closing his eyes wouldn't hurt...

He heard the hinges of a door lightly hiss, and then he was unceremoniously thrown past an archway. Silverbell Cookie collapsed flatly on the ground, groaning, attempting to flip himself over to no avail, when a voice shot through the thick shadows.

"Here you are, my adored. I've bought you some sustenance. I hope you enjoy my offering of tonight."

The young knight immediately recognized this voice. It was...

The door closed shut and locked, and he was now in complete darkness. Silence reigned for a bit, until something fumbled closer to the helpless knight.

The voice was Elder Faerie Cookie's. And Silverbell Cookie knew what that meant now.

Two white thin dots shone in the shadows above his face. A heavy, warm breath soon flooded around him, and he immediately knew what was going to happen.

A raspy voice broke.

White Lily Cookie stared at her friend, who turned back and hovered off. Maybe she stared for too long. She didn't know. All she knew is that her friend of eons wasn't ready to forgive her.

The next thing she remembered was sitting down on the bench near the Tree of Wishes. She didn't know how she got there, or why she even went to this location in the first place.

A bit farther away, settled on the pavement between the houses, were GingerBrave and Wizard Cookie playing with dice. She didn't pay much attention to them. Her mind was running at a thousand miles per second.

And that's how Pure Vanilla Cookie was able to sneak up on her.

"Hello!", his familiar voice greeted, soft and warm as always.

White Lily Cookie jumped up in surprise, turning around to face him as he settled down next to her.

"How are you doing, my friend?" he enquired, his staff's eye locked on her.

She fumbled, sat back down. "I... am fine."

"Are you sure?" he insisted softly, pivoting a bit sideways to face her.

"I-I really am fine," she mumbled back, knowing full well that he could perfectly read her expression despite being visually impaired.

"White Lily Cookie," he started, but she cut him.

"Please, I don't want to speak about it."

"Is it about Golden Cheese Cookie again?", he guessed.

"... How—"

"I have known you for millenniums, of course I can read you like an open book," he smiled.

"... it is about her, yes..." She turned away from the archmage, and let her eyes land on the two kids playing dice. "I just... hoped for her approval... again."

"Let's walk together, shall we?" he softly asked, extending his hand out to her.

She looked at it for a bit, before taking it in her own.

He stood up, and she followed, her gaze sinking to the ground. They then started pacing down the pavement.

"White Lily Cookie," he softly hummed while guiding her around the road, "you know that she's a stubborn head, right?"

"Yes, I do, but—"

"She will come around eventually. She may need some help in doing so, like when GingerBrave and the others had to convince her to move on from the Golden Cheese Kingdom; but I trust she will come around."

She looked up to Pure Vanilla Cookie for a bit, just enough to spot his staff gazing at her.

"... I... get that. I have done a mistake that caused all of her subjects' lives, after all..."

"White Lily Cookie... Please, it wasn't your fault."

"It was—" She stammered.

"You didn't know what you would witness there. And I know your intentions were, and still are, kind-hearted," he softly said.

She stared some more at the pavement, not knowing what to answer.

"Ah, here we are. We should be alone here," Pure Vanilla Cookie stated, stopping in his tracks to wave his staff at his dedicated pavillion.

She looked up, gazed at it.

It really suited its owner. It followed Pure Vanilla Cookie's colours with carved wafflestone columns supporting an enormous replica of his hat as way of roof.

It also had a white lily blooming in front of it.

"... Was that flower always there?" She asked, pointing at the white petals and rose filaments.

"Why, yes. I planted it there soon after the sugar gnomes had finished building this terrace for me."

"Why so?" She enquired.

"Because... Well, I was missing you. And I missed my garden back at the Vanilla Kingdom, so... I wanted a tribute to it."

He moved, gently tugging her along, and walked in the pavillion.

"Can't I miss my closest friend now?" He teased, settling himself against one of the columns and letting go of White Lily Cookie so she could also get comfortable.

She chose to sit against the archmage's side, slightly leaning on him, as they used to do during their long research nights at the academy when they were young and innocent still.

"No, that is... perfectly reasonable," she mumbled as she let herself drown in the folds of Pure Vanilla Cookie's robes.

She inhaled his scent quietly and relaxed against her friend.

"I... know I can't expect everyone to forgive me for what I've done, but... I really wish she could."

"She will," he said immediately, not skipping a beat. "She may be the incarnation of stubbornness, but she will come around. After all, she's known you for so long, too."

White Lily Cookie sat in silence for a bit, before hiding a little more in her friend's clothes.

Error was slowly balancing back and forth on his improvised swing, appearing to his long-standing enemy through a glitched portal. He looked smug, sure of himself, as he smirked down to the ex-guardian.

"you look like you lost the hang of it, almost as if you had forgotten you hands at home," he kept hissing at Ink, pointing at his now completely dusted hands.

Ink didn't react, and just kept staring at the glitch.

"... wow yeah, harvesting alright actually. where have your usual remarks gone? did they depend on something i took away from you, maybe?" he grinned maliciously.

"... Error—"

"no no no, no talking for ya. i ain't here to hear about your bullshit, i just wanna see you slowly die to your own immortality."

"I—"

"I SAID SHUT UP."

Ink shut up.

"rah, look at what you made me do. now your little friends are gonna show up," he gestured at the door of the stolen bedroom as suddenly voices started to yell in alarm behind it. "welp, i guess that's my cue to leave. your mortal critters are annoying as hell."

And on that note, he pulled himself up through his portal and was gone in an instant.

Just as the door was practically blasted open by Blue and Dream's worried storm of sharp weapons and family-friendly cursing.

°-°-°

credits : Ink by Comyet/Myebi, Error by LoverOfPiggies/Crayon Queen, Dream by Jokublog, Swap!Sans/Blue by popcornpr1nce,

Threadverse by me (@corruptgrail), Inktobertale prompt list by Comyet/Myebi,