Tubbo collapses in front of the statue, head dizzingly light and heart unbearably heavy, and he sobs. He sobs into the crumbling obsidian, grief raw with memories he doesn't remember, that he can't remember.
He doesn't question it when arms curl around him, doesn't flinch as the strong smell of the end washes over him. He just leans into it, tears soaking the goddess's dress as she hums
Tubbo wakes up with a worn red cape around them both, the all too familar scent of it sending him into another crying fit because how could he forget his own father's face? And yet the memories refuse to present themselves, staying just out of his grasp
When he finally gets his breathing under his control, Ianite—how can he remember her name but not who she is?—moves away for a brief second and he thinks to apologize. But before he can she presents a cake to him, messy and home made by an unpracticed hand. The goddess looks hessitant but her smile is still the soft and oh so soothing,
"Happy birthday, tubbo"
i’m going to bed
