👎⚐☠❄ ☞⚐☼☝☜❄

—✕ █ ▌Taking his work with the utmost seriousness, that is surely the Gaster way. Loghain cannot say that he has any criticisms towards his beloved in regards to this, nothing short of STARS in his eyes over how hard at work he’s been. 

He does hope there’s enough time for building set aside when he returns. There really isn’t that much to do on his end.

To his surprise, when he’s perfectly balancing trays of snacks and drinks to accompany their pizza and napkins to ensure not a drop is spilled, he sees the already transformed living space changed once more, pausing only to EXHALE a whistle. ❝Have you invented a time machine? I hardly believe that you managed this yourself in such a short amount of time.❞

All settled down, he places and adjusts trays, giving the pair optimal room for reaching from where they’ll sit. Oh, he may not be the engineer and scientist, but that doesn’t mean that he still can’t strive for that same sort of INGENUITY. 

❝The movies I picked out ought to be right by the television, dear.❞Ever the sort to prepare, he made sure to leave all the possibilities out and in PLAIN SIGHT. 

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ “I am merely a master at blanket construction.” Overly proud and with added dramatic flair, nothing about Gaster’s words were genuinely serious. In truth, the blanket fort had gone up haphazardly, and while it was stable enough, their nest of blanket cosiness could have used a little more careful management. But it was up, and Gaster pranced over to the DVDs, pausing to move some loose linen from the coffee table. At the very least, he hadn’t buried the tv itself under his flurry.

{ 👑 } AS ENDEARING AS YOU ARE! THOSE words certainly make his heart flutter - and his chest groan. No doubt, as thankful as he is for Gaster’s continued friendship, it is far more troublesome wrestling with this UNFORTUNATE condition that has afflicted the pair. Too much to think of in the current time frame, he’d much rather torch this city to the ground. Preferably with Gaster safe. Oh blast it, even his own mind isn’t SAFE!

❝IT MAKES SENSE,❞ HE’S QUICK TO say, as though in the hopes that letting this all air out would distract him enough to not fixate over and over upon his newfound honesty. Volumes of flowers are scooped up in his arms, probably not doing either of them a fat lot of good, but he FEELS slightly better by being on the move, by doing something with his energy. ❝Smart. You’re good at thinking THROUGH these sort of things.❞

THIS IS ALSO INFORMATION THAT HE wasn’t particularly stoked to admit aloud, but at least it would be good in boosting morale. Perhaps it is false hope, that they could get rid of the flowers, but anything is preferred over telling the truth so plainly and boldly. Nose wrinkles. ❝Yeah, couldn’t have said it better myself. All well and good being all chummy but it ain’t fun if you’re FORCED to. I guess we can just shovel them out of the apartment … truth be told, a part of me wonders if this will even do anything, but it’s BETTER than just sitting down and doing nothing ‘bout it.❞

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ “Precisely. Some things are better spoken in one’s right mind. What these plants do is disgusting.” Another twitch of the bones around his nose, and Gaster shovels a pile out of an open window, watching as the petals blow away in the breeze. Staring down, the hopelessness of their endeavour sank in, as purple plagued the snow below. Well, safe havens were safe havens, and if they could do anything about the indoor space, so be it.

{ 👑 } HE HASN’T THE FAINTEST IDEA OF where to find the vanilla extract, but it only takes a few opened cabinets to find it. Gangrel ought to have a more careful eye upon his surroundings, but Gaster, dear Gaster, is too much of a friend - not that he’d ADMIT it aloud - for him to be anything more than relaxed. 

HE FINDS THE MILK MUCH MORE easily - thank Naga, Gaster would indeed be insane enough to stick it in an unconventional place - yet still took long enough that he didn’t get to SEE the wizardry at work. Nose curls up a little; he remembers talk of mixing wet and dry ingredients separately? Ah, whatever, this ain’t his wheelhouse. 

❝HOO HOO,❞ HE LAUGHS ALONG TO Gaster’s declaration, arms crossed over his chest as he watches his friend lay down the baking paper. In truth, he barely even knows what baking paper IS, but laughing at Gaster’s silliness is far more lucrative. ❝Butter ain’t slippery enough? Colour me shocked. I guess I should avoid using it in my schemes, huh.❞

IT CERTAINLY IS A STRETCH TO link baking to the likes of lock-picking and trespassing, but his friend has just as much of a naughty streak as he, albeit LESS pronounced. (He has a feeling that Loghain isn’t as straight-edge as he seems. He’s not STUPID enough to poke that bear, however.) A hand waves at Gaster to continue this little story of his. Promise I won’t laugh too hard. 

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ "It is fine for the edges, but for the bottom of the cake, it is abysmal." Whatever point Gaster was trying to make, he couldn't entirely keep on track, pouring the cake batter in the tin, catching a loose drip on his finger and nibbling away at it -- potential sicknesses be damned. It isn't perfect. Nothing about the cake is, as he shakes the tin the batter wobbles as watery as... well, water, and for a moment he wonders if adding more flour would be a worthy endeavour.

"This would have been easier if we had a cake mix." Too late for that now, as he passes the tin to Gangrel, ready for the oven. "Here, the next step ought to be easy enough for you, yes?" Punctuated as he sticks his tongue out, a teasing gesture. But once the cake is out of hand, his mind gets back on track. "Yes, we had ran out of baking paper, and I tried to bake a cake for Loghain's birthday. Ah- I had a recipe with me then, it was easier to follow."

He pulls a face, remembering how useless the recipe actually was. "Yet it did not mention anything to do with the tin! Merely pour the batter in. I recall Loghain using a mix of paper and butter, so I tried to find both, yet we only had butter."

—✕ █ ▌A smile tugs on his lips at the thought of Gaster clinging to pipework and scrambling up and down the surface none too unlike the movements of a squirrel. Loghain has always been taken by those who are UNAFRAID, ready to take action, and he must say that Gaster certainly exemplifies that —- no matter the form taken, it seems!

❝It is as good a lead as we got, and I’d rather us not run around AIMLESSLY like a pair of newly beheaded chickens.❞ 

Always a man of action, Loghain is, steeling himself up both mentally and physically for the trek at hand. Hand tugs out his phone, checking the map he always seems to have within reach. Nothing beats the feeling of parchment in his grasp, but this’ll do, this’ll do. Gaster’s hand is grasped within his own, as he already makes strides.

❝If he’s not there, we can SEARCH for clues. I’m sure he’d leave a sign if his position is compromised.❞ It is the sort of thing Loghain would do, and he knows, all too well, that he’s been a sort of influence to Gaster, REGARDLESS of the universe. 

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ "Ah, yes, I am sure he would." Not that leaving clues would have been the intention of his alternate self. Gaster knew that, as wily as he could be with climbing, it did not come with the merit of secrecy. There would be damaged rocks, foot tracks, a myriad of other little tell-tale signs that would lead an expert tracker right to him. Yet what the City faced right now wasn't expert trackers, so whatever pipe his alternate self had found to hide in would serve enough.

Loghain, however, was an expert tracker, and in this, Gaster found enough assurance to keep going.

{ 👑 } TEETH PULL BACK INTO A SMUG little grin, he knows all too well what Gaster may be holding back. He knows better than to assume the worst from his friend, that his huffing and puffing is more like the meows of a little kitten than the warning signs of a tiger. Elbow nudging into his pal’s ribcage before scrambling and measuring and altogether making a little bit of a MESS. With the way the flour is sticking to him, there might not be time to snore tonight. 

❝WELL … 200 FEELS RIGHT TO ME if that’s what the recipe says …❞ He understands the vague implications behind Gaster’s words, has seen enough cooking shows to know how often these sort of things seem to rely on INTUITION above all else. Bothersome, perhaps, but now’s not the time to pick a battle. ❝May not be perfect, but if that’s what it says, then it WON’T be shit, yeah?❞

HE’S ASSURING HIMSELF JUST AS MUCH as Gaster as he shimmies his way into the fridge. A tight fit, but he’s bothered none. If anything, the busy atmosphere would be a boon to their clouded minds. Eggs wriggle in their container as he sets them down. ❝That it?❞

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ "I believe so? Perhaps we need a splash of vanilla." Ah, in truth, he couldn't remember the recipe as flawlessly as he'd hoped. Or maybe it was the midnight exhaustion clouding his mind, yet either way, Gaster got to cracking a few eggs into a separate bowl. "While you are there, can you get milk? I believe we only need a small amount." Enough to make the batter more... batter-like. While Gangrel busied with gathering things, Gaster set about mixing the ingredients, dries first, then wets, then all mixed up together. Still, he made sure to punctuate his actions with the occasional announcement of -- possibly inaccurate -- measures of ingredients.

✧*:･ﾟ| WHAT the hell has he done to deserve this punishment? Overactive imagination twists and pulls, playing games with his thoughts and feelings. The being who DEFIED expectations, just how far has he gone? Was it a simple accident or did he twist experiments in ways that any god would wish to strike down? His heart is soft enough to wonder if even the latter deserves this fate.

❝I … see. My apologies,❞ he finally says. His form crackles under the weight of such a solemn truth, like twinkling stars concentrated in a single human body. ❝MORBID to think of one’s lasting impression after death … or, well -❞ This isn’t death. Not really.

HE’S shaking, regardless of the reassurances and platitudes. Is it arrogant to believe that he doesn’t DESERVE this fate? Certainly, he flew too close to the sun, but if any God exists Siebren would not have wanted to strike them down. 

GRIPPING his skull he tries to groan or scream or do anything, but nothing escapes. No sound to enter the Void.

❝I hardly think that an eternity of pain is an APPROPRIATE punishment - surely no.❞ His body, or whatever constitutes as the closest approximation to one, flickers and glimmers, starlight piercing like knives. He doesn’t even have the satisfaction of being a cautionary tale. ❝Is my company … bearable to you?❞

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ "It is an eternity, and it is not. It, simply, is." However could he explain how tangled the winding webs of the Universe could be, to someone as lowly and humble as a person? Envy cloyed itself amidst those threads, and Gaster stared down at the small planet that still sat between them, a pale blue dot in an ocean that had become him. The man was troubled. That much, Gaster had long since figured out, without the need for acknowledging lines of existence, of thought, of the delicate interplay between reality and the questions of free will. No, he saw it on the man's eyebrows, and heard it in his voice. He was only human, after all.

"Yes, I suppose your company is bearable." Pleasant, comforting, an all-encompassing blanket in the vast, cold Void. Yet the Void toyed in ways he couldn't describe, and Gaster thought it best to stay level. After all, this moment was only a moment, and the man shouldn't be here. Better, then, to not reveal too much. He'd said enough already. "The Universe does not comprehend the notion of 'appropriateness'. If one flies too close to the sun, then one burns. It matters little why."

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ “Patchy memory, huh?”

{ 👑 } IT CERTAINLY FEELS STRANGE, DARE HE say wrong, to hear Gaster speak so earnestly. He hasn’t thought about the possibility of bad blood between them in such a frightfully long time, such a long time that he doesn’t even REMEMBER. Oh, there was that one time they fought over his fear of heights, or that one other time they —- well alright, so they still bicker from time to time, but his point still STANDS.

❝EH? WHAT? NO WAY YOU’D MENTION that so … so earnestly and cutely!❞ Despite being so very disturbed by the open admission of feelings, Gangrel manages to sneak in a teasing response, fingers wiggling underneath Gaster’s ‘nose’. ❝Something’s up, I don’t know how much more KINDNESS I could take from you …❞

MUCH EASIER TO THINK ABOUT THE problem at hand - damn those Stars, damn them to hell - than to replay Gaster’s honeyed words over and over in his mind. And oh, he would love to tease back, but every time HARSHER words attempt to pass through their lips, his brain screams to speak honestly. What. A. Pain.

❝COME TO THINK OF IT, I saw some in the hallways on my way here. I didn’t think about it, apartments like to furnish their halls, yeah? But now that you bring it up – they’ve been growing like WEEDS.❞

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ "Cute?" Sure, words spilt like oil on tarmac roads, but such honesty didn't stop Gaster's tongue from sticking out, face scrunched with a dose of mocking disgust. Twice, he'd done that so far, and he hoped for both of their sake's it wouldn't need to happen again. At least, not any time soon. Easier to pull a face that rely on words that threatened to twist themselves without his input! "Likewise, as endearing as you are, Gangrel, niceness does not suit you- us- whatever."

A groan follows, before Gaster begins his hunt for some kind of brush, anything to clear off this abundance of petals and pollen. "It is one thing for these to grow in the ground -- in the middle of winter, no less -- but another for them to grow in the walls. Yes, whatever is making us..." He waves a hand, a rough gesture between them and this painfully candid conversation. "... talk like we are, it is no doubt these flowers that are at fault. Help me clear them."

{ 👑 } ❝WHY WOULD I WANT THEM? HAVE I looked like the kind of guy to fawn over flowers? Hah!❞ He speaks rather plainly, palms raised in protest. Backing up against the wall, pot brandished like a weapon. ❝Rude! You didn’t even wait for my answer! I ought to SHOVE these flowers down your throat.❞ Hand snatches the pot, scattering pollen in clouds over the pair. ❝Look what you’ve done —!❞you

HE WAS ALREADY UNDENIABLY WORRIED THAT the plants were bad news, a sort of sinister vibe hanging in the air from the moment things first looked ‘off’. Like the tense quietness before the monster attacks, like hearing a noise in the distance and trying to be as QUIET as possible when investigating. The bated breath one gets avoiding the squeaky step on an old staircase. 

❝YOU KNOW, I WAS GOING TO take them if you were being more polite.❞ The words come out as a surprise even to him. ❝You’re my friend, and I care for you, even when you’re being an unreasonable idiot like now!❞

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ Gaster stares. Blinks, once, twice, til the pollen finally scratches at the bones of his face and he sneezes, scattering pollen all over the home. Oh, he'll be cleaning it up for weeks at this rate. "Yes, and you are my dear friend too, why else would I have intended to give them to you?" 

Tongue sticks out, then, as finally, finally it begins to dawn on him that something might just be a bit off. "I had ordered echo flowers, not these. Do you think the Stars are up to something?" Oh, but of course he was going to just completely ignore any slips of the tongue, any faint embarrassment that might cover his cheeks. All ignored, yep, for the less he addressed the fact that he could not understand why such an admission of friendship would hang so loosely from his mouth, the less Gangrel would tease about it. He hoped. It wouldn't happen, he knew Gangrel and he knew the king teased mercilessly, but he could hope for something.

—✕ █ ▌He ought to be accustomed to Gaster’s habit of OVERDOING things, and while technically he is, Loghain comes to the realization that he’s far too starstruck to care. He laughs, for a moment forgetting about the mess that Gaster has unleashed upon the pair, BLISSFULLY wading through the sea of linen to set the pizza box down ( with still enough sense not to place it tooclose to the edge ). 

❝I am BEGINNING to believe that you might have an addiction to constructing things. An addiction that extends to blanket forts, it seems!❞ 

Loghain is far from angry when he gathers a voluminous mass in his arms. He quite immediately follows suit - folding blankets strategically and filling up the sofa’s corners until not a single inch of upholstery could be seen. Pillows are propped up at the back as PERFECT leverage for sitting and leaning against. 

❝I gather you have the rest under CONTROL? I’ll go grab us some drinks and extra napkins.❞ 

Not even waiting for an answer, Loghain already disappears within the confines of the kitchen. For however much of a craftsman and engineer Gaster could be in making the PERFECT blanket fort, Loghain was the best at food preparation. He returns quickly, just as promised, to smile fondly at the scene Gaster unfolds before his very eyes. 

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ Mastery of blanket fort construction was an extremely important skill that required the highest degree of seriousness to be handled properly and with the care needed. Gaster's jaw clicks, scratching lightly at the scar across his forehead as he ponders over the most rich, luxurious possible blanket fort he could design. Were it not for the promise of food, such a construction would no doubt merit days upon days of rigorous planning and testing!

But food was soon, and good food at that, so Gaster resigns himself to stacking chairs, upending tables, and throwing linen across it all in drapery styles befit a Roman court. Dramatic! Beautiful! Exactly what such an evening deserved. By the time Loghain reappeared, Gaster had transformed the humble (yet perfectly stable) blanket fort into a nest never before seen in the world of blanket-fortery. At least, he wanted to believe that was the case.

—✕ █ ▌❝Troublesome, but no fault of his own,❞ he remarks, BLUNTLY addressing the matter. 

There was a time when Loghain needed a map to NAVIGATE the city, but by now, it may as well be a secondary nature. He certainly wouldn’t say no to one, but that is a different matter from the one currently at hand. His direction focuses eastward, grip on Gaster growing slack as he thinks.

❝Let’s move to the rendezvous point, then.❞ Both cities largely mirror each other, so the thought that the other Gaster may grow lost doesn’t occur to him. ❝If he isn’t there, we can RETRACE your steps.❞

Eyes open as his grip on Gaster’s hand tightens again. Wherever the other Gaster would hide, it likely wouldn’t be different from the sort of places his would gravitate towards. Footsteps shift, moving with the GRACE of a warrior as he slides over rubble.

❝Could be anywhere … but PARTICULARLY anywhere that you’d be I’m sure. He’s not too different from you. Well … he’s not as intelligent … or cute.❞

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ "If it is anywhere I would be, then be sure to look out for pipes, big and small." Days climbing around the CORE, the few fonder memories of a past life. Even now, his fingers itched to climb, once or twice. "Though he is a human, he seemed wiry enough to climb in the most checkered pipework. The metal would keep him safe, ah, assuming it helps him feel as safe as it would for me."

          ★ –;; “Not new,” Vash explains. “Well– not exactly new. Keep gettin’ dragged here and tossed back out, like they can’t decide what they wanna do with me.” It wouldn’t be the first time others didn’t know what to do about his mere existence, but he keeps that thought to himself. “I knew the ‘Stars’ were the ones who brought us here, but I didn’t think that the whole sky was fake. Since they brought us here, I always just thought that the stars were some sort of people. Unless I’m totally wrong about that, too.”

He shrugs. “I grew up learning about Earth. When I was first brought here, I thought that surely this place must be somewhere on Earth, but now I know better.” He leaves out the part about Earth having been so close to falling apart completely when he had been a child, why humanity had been sent outwards, full of hope into the celestial nothing. 

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ "Truth be told, I do not know the answer to that one." Nor did Gaster really care to know. Unusual, that some things would sit outside of his all-encompassing curiosity, but he knew more than most not to delve too deep into certain mysteries. If the answers weren't found eventually, they would, in time, and he had all the time in the world. 

{ 👑 } IF GANGREL NOTICES THE BUZZING PHONE or lingering trepidation that grace Gaster’s features, he says not a word about it. Gaster has his own life, his own TROUBLES, and Gangrel doesn’t find it appropriate to psychoanalyse such a thing. He has the grace within him not to cheer in joy when his companion reveals the contents of the text, at least. Instead, he merely tuts and shrugs it off, as if to say ‘too bad he can’t show up!’

❝OOF,❞ HE HUFFS, FEELING HIS ENTIRE body sag under the sudden weight of the flour. He grumbles to himself, rather, and SURPRISINGLY, gentle as he sets it aside on the counter. ❝Well, you’re a pretty good babysitter, so don’t worry any, gah ha ha ~ ❞ He wouldn’t admit verbally how he’s looking forward to this, praying that the backflipping of his stomach would CEASE once they’ve entered the routine of it.

GANGREL SHUFFLES UP AGAINST THE COUNTER, standing upon the tips of his toes as he pulls a sizable bowl from the cupboard. Sharp red gaze peeking over the rim of the bowl into Gaster’s eyes; for a moment, he CONSIDERS speaking up about this, to offer thanks, but lips purse tightly and bowl is settled right next to the bag of flour. ❝Heh, you never know. I can sleep like a log after eating sweets~❞ He says with a grin, teeth flashing.

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】─ "Do not remind me," Gaster huffs, biting his tongue on the smile that threatened to follow. Ah, but it was all a fuss for nothing, he could only appreciate the presence of his friend on a night like this, even if the prospect of Gangrel's obnoxious snores only filled him with quiet dread. "Weigh out two hundred grams of this for me. Or, ah, whatever weird measurement you feel like."

He swears Loghain just measures it with his heart anyway, having not once seen Loghain reading the baking recipes on their bookshelf. Perhaps that was the magic behind his cakes? Regardless, he pushes the thought aside before it sours his faux-enthusiastic mood any further, grip on a whisk perhaps a little too tight, before- "Oh, right. Sugar and butter is in this bowl, whisked until fluffy."