———

Lightbulb slept soundly, her head rested comfortably. The blankets were surprisingly comfy, she was surprised by the hospitality of such an inn. The velvet was comforting against her skin, metal, and glass. Her wings shifted comfortably beneath her.

Birds sang a morning song, and objects began to pour out of their homes onto the bustling streets of the city outside. Lightbulb wanted to sleep a little longer, but her mind wandered too far for her to drift off again. So she just kept her eyes closed...

Paintbrush was frozen like a dear in headlights. Their face brighter than a tomato as they slowly came to the realization Lightbulb was clinging onto them like a pillow. They wouldn't have been surprised if it turned out Lightbulb actually didn't notice they weren't a pillow.

They didn't know what to do. They were too scared to move. The blankets were half off of their body and their arm was definitely going numb. They also really... Didn't want to wake Lightbulb.

Why did I have to let her share a bed...

They silently sigh to themselves. Which seemed to cause movement on their chest. Paintbrush looked down and flinched as the saw Lightbulb staring up at them.

"U-uh—! Good morning u-Uhm...!" They didn't know what to say or do in this situation. What this meant... If she was trying to do be romantic, cuddly— or was just being Lightbulb.

Lightbulb yawned, and stretched out, before resting her head back in Paintbrush's chest with a sigh. She pondered a few things before glancing out at the window which was covered by a curtain, only a slim section of light able to peek through. "Good morning." She muttered, rather blankly for her normal goofy demeanour.

Paintbrush took not of course and remained still as a statue for the most part. They could tell something was up, but the whole situation had them to nervous to ask. But they didn't want the thick silence to remain, so they filled the void with a different question, "how did you sleep?" They asked warmly.

Lightbulb narrowed her eyes. "Eh... It's a bit complicated..." she spoke as she thought uncomfortably to herself.

"What do you mean?" They asked as they raised an eyebrow in response, "Is something on your mind?" It seems the question they were dreading to ask came up on its own.

"It's just... Doesn't this all seem a bit... I dunno... Weirdly convenient?" She huffed, hugging herself as she mumbled these things partially into the blanket.

"What...?" Paintbrush muttered in confusion.

"I said, like uh... all this seems weirdly convenient." Lightbulb repeated a bit louder, thinking Paintbrush couldn't hear her the first time.

"Yeah—no... I heard you. I just—what do you mean?" They asked with a now confused glare as they listened to her words.

Lightbulb stared at the candle lights that had long burned out above. "We opened this magical door with our powers... ended up in this new—place! And now everyone is just— taking our word for stuff. I know these wild powers a crazy shindig in itself, but even my goofy self would be conspir—conspiriss.. conspiring about why the hell we have these wacky abilities... y'know? Everything just seems to be clicking too perfectly..." she rambled.

Paintbrush pondered her words for a moment, and thought back to how that... 'X' person behaved. Lightbulb was right, it was kind of strange. They sighed slightly and looked down at Lightbulb. "There's nothing we can really do about it... At least they didn't try to lock us up, you know?"

Lightbulb bit her lip as she thought silently to herself. While Paintbrush was right, she didn't want to just wait for the worse if that was to come. "What do you think they want with us? And... What do you think that Cobs guy from before wanted with Balloon...?" She asked, worriedly glaring up at Paintbrush again.

They remained silent once more. The wind creeping through decorated wood with a lack of insolation was the only thing filling void of soundless thought. They look down at their free hand, and squinted their eyes focusing on their powers. They watched as it sparked up into a flame on their hand and danced there, illuminating the room briefly. "Maybe it's because of our abilities...? It has to be... The cards they... this... This whole thing is probably so much more than we know..." they closed their fist around the flame, and it dissipated in an instant.

Lightbulb watched the life span of the flan dance by and come to an end. She grumbled to herself and looked at the window. "Do you... Think the others are alright?" She asked meekly.

Paintbrush blinked in thought, not knowing the answer. They also knew Lightbulb wasn't an idiot and... hated being babied, "I don't know..."

Lightbulb frowned, the lack of knowledge made her anxiety all the worse, she nervously placed her head beneath Paintbrush's chin. "How will we get back home?" She asked, the second question likely more important than the last.

Paintbrush was once again lacking in any sort of volume. They kept to themself and let out a slight whine before finally answering... "I don't know..."

The darkness and it's tendrils encroaching as they set on their target. The object ran through the darkness and peril it held, thrashing through what felt like waves of water trying to drag him back into the abyss behind him. He felt eyes pierce his souls and stab him in his heart as he reached out into the darkness to grasp the hand that felt just out of reach. A light above that seemed impossible to find. A dreary feeling tugged down on their legs and made it increasingly difficult to fight against as he ran through the emptiness he longed to cease.

"HELLO? IS—IS ANYONE THERE?!" He screamed only to have the inky black respond with silence. Nobody was there. The cheerful bliss of those he cared for no where to be found.

Tendrils of the concept of peril in itself attempted to drag him back into darkness. Echoes of his cries bounced back and scratched like nails on chalkboard against his skull. He cried out and swam and flailed desperately through the void to which his enemy could not be seen in.

He wanted to break down and cry, something about the world around him made him feel entirely hopeless and lonely... Abandoned and tossed aside like trash. He felt something deep in his chest... A spark peeking through the shadow looming over him.

'Light'

Perhaps it was his? Or another's? He didn't know, but it was the only thing pushing him forward through the unforgiving reality before him. He grasped for the hand that he was longing—HOPING would be there to his aid...

Alas, his ankle, grabbed.

He screamed out, yelping as he was dragged back into the abyss. Tears spilled from his eyes, his chest grabbed at by tendrils, and crushing his chest. It broke through bones and pierced vital organs, he spewed blood and a black oily liquid from his lips, only to have the tendrils of darkness force its way into his mouth and eyes, and spill through his through and crush the soft tissue of his brain from the inside. Pain was the only word to describe any and everything he was feeling in that moment. His bones crushed and twisted in ways it shouldn't have been as the inky black crept further into his body. Blood spilled out and enveloped his body as did the tendrils of shadow.

He cried, muffled screams drowned out by the darkness that closed in from around himself. The hope drains from his being, and with one final crackle—

Mephone4 Gasped grasping at his chest and coughing hoarsely. He let out a choked sob, and looked around violently. A encroaching dread tugging his eyes open wider than he thought they could go. A cold sweat soaked the sheets and velvet red blanket beneath him. He didn't know he could sweat... It was likely because he was somewhat biological now. He looked out the window through the velvet curtains he forgot to close. He stumbled out of bed, forgetting he was as small as he was and stepped towards the glass panels that kept him separated from the morning sky behind it.

Bricked streets lined the sky city, and many colourful bricked houses and shopping stalls filled the roads below. Mephone4 couldn't help but notice the overall lack of technology. He himself had similarly changed to match the medieval world he seemed to have entered. His bit his lip nervously and looked down at the objects that filled the streets... Many of them had feathers, and or small wings, they were quite small though in comparison to Lightbulb's, and practically microscopic if compared to Balloon's.

Mephone4 sighed and rubbed his eyes and groaned, his panic from the nightmare he had subsiding. Mephone4 turned and walked towards the door, grabbing his key from the shelf that was slightly taller than he was and exiting, nearly bumping into the girl behind it. He flinched and opened his mouth to speak, "Jeez...! I didn't see you...!" Mephone4 frowned.

The girl flinched and adjusted her petals before sighing, "Urgh... It's fine." She grumbled, and tugged at her eyelids for a moment. She glanced down and gripped tighter onto her cleaning supplies, "My friend usually cooks breakfast if you're interested." Flower huffed.

Mephone4 was definitely interested, "Oh, uh—Sure..." He smiled and walked towards the stairs.

Flower sighed and gave a little wave, then scrubbed the dirty tabletops and dusted wooden pillars, she was trying to uphold her high ratings after all.

Mephone4 stepped down the wooden stairs which were lined with a velvet red carpet. He felt the soft fabric against his feet, as he descended into the lobby below. He could smell something down the hall to his left, and strolled through the decorated hall. "Hello?" He called sheepishly as he turned a hallways into a dining room.

A girl perked and turned to him with a friendly smile. She waved him inside. "I can't abandon the stove! Could you pass me some more wood for the fire?" She chimed.

Mephone4 gave a small nod and walked over to the stack of wood on the opposite end of the kitchen, and passed a few over to the gem. She tossed them into the fire and continued to cook. He stepped back, and sat in a stool.

The girl hummed happily and placed a plate down, and decorated the table with large clusters of food and pitchers of drinks. "They don't call this a bed and breakfast for naught!" She happily sang.

Mephone4 nodded and collected some of the food from the platter onto his plate. He grabbed his silverware and stuffed his face, man he was hungry. The food wasn't the best he'd ever had... But it wasn't something he'd refuse. He wanted to say thanks, but decided against it.

"Did Flower send you?" The girl asked, sitting across and placing her hands in her lap.

Mephone4 flinched, and swallowed his food. He wasn't expecting to be spoken to so suddenly. "Oh, uh... ehm... Who?" He raised a brow.

"Flower! She runs the inn? I work with her, obviously." The girl boasted with a smile. The gem then collected her own plate of food, though it wasn't as much as the book across from her had.

"Oh, yes. She did." Mephone nodded, scooping another bite of food into his mouth. His stomach indulging in the sustenance it was being provided.

The girl's face faded out of it's smile and she sighed. "You didn't come here on your own accord? Expected as much... Sorry if I'm not the best cook." She frowned.

"What? That's— that's not what I meant..." Mephone4 panicked, placing his hands up defensively. "The food is fine, I would have came here regardless. I was hungry..." He explained.

"Yeah, however this place is supposed to be perfect! Only the finest...! Not many people like it..." She traced the rim of her glass and leans on the table.

"I'm sure it's fine. Nobody likes my cookies much either." Mephone4 shrugged dismissively and shoved more food into his mouth. "Don't fuss over it too much."

The girl grumbled and leaned back in her seat. "I guess..." She picked up her fork and was about to eat, when footsteps echoed out behind her. "Hm...?" She turned her head, Mephone4 looked over too.

Flower walked in with Lightbulb and Paintbrush behind her. Flower looked fed up with Lightbulb talking and her constant questioning. Paintbrush looked rather tired. "Please just sit down and eat..." she spat.

Lightbulb 'hmph...'-ed and sat down glaring at Flower suspiciously. "So you're telling me this X guy has THAT much authority?" She grumbled. "I think you're in cahoots." She hissed.

"Lightbulb, please... Take your tinfoil hat off and be glad we haven't been murdered or worse..." Paintbrush groaned as they gave a apologetic glare to the gem and Mephone.

Lightbulb grumbled and sat down with her arms crossed, giving a glare to Flower still.

Flower sat down next to the gem and glanced over at her. "Any problems come up while I was cleaning Ruby?" She asked tiredly rubbing her eyes.

"Nah! Don't overwork yourself!" The girl chimed in response, her cheery demeanour returning instantly. She grabbed her fork and began to eat with a smile. Flower nodded and looked back down at her hands which were folded in her lap.

Mephone glanced at Paintbrush and opened his mouth to speak, "What happened?" He asked, referring to Lightbulb's spiteful face and constant interrogation.

"It's complicated—" Paintbrush responded, "—We both believe things are going a bit too smoothly I suppose. And now she's insistent on finding answers." Paintbrush leaned back in their chair, looking at the plethora of options for breakfast.

Mephone4 stabbed into his food with his fork and pondered the thought, "I don't think X questioned much when I told them I fell out of the sky... They were more concerned about my fa—" he quickly slammed his fist down and cut himself off, narrowing his gaze uncomfortably in an instant. "—Cobs... They were worried about Cobs... Getting here." He muttered, putting the fork of food into his mouth and glancing away from Paintbrush.

Paintbrush folded their hands and leaned their chin on them in thought. "Mmh..." They hummed as they pondered, perhaps there is more going on that meets the eye... And looking back, X did seem rather interested in Lightbulb. If they were going to find answers, X would be a good place to start. "Perhaps we should look for X..." They suggest, putting the thought out there.

Lightbulb slammed her hands on the table, "AHAH! SO THEY DID DO SOME THING SUSPICIOUS!" She exclaimed in both anger and triumph.

Paintbrush flinched and put their hands up, their flame sparked purple. "no, no! That's not it! I just— Think the person we should be questioning isn't Flower, nor... Uh..."

"Ruby!" The girl chimed with a kind smile.

"Ruby." Paintbrush gave a nod, "I don't think these ladies or their generous hospitality have anything to do with what's going on..." they added.

Lightbulb huffed, and crossed her arms, "I guess..."

"No use sitting around here then, go on, get lost... my Inn is open to you at sundown but I don't want to see you lot back here until then, alright?" Flower pestered, shooing them off.

Mephone scarfed down the last of his food and slid off the chair. "Alright..." He grumbled and stepped off towards the door.

Lightbulb and Paintbrush both stood and followed after Mephone4 towards the lobby and out the front door of the inn onto the bustling streets of the floating city. They walked out onto the narrow brick road in search of the one they saw the day prior.

———

Balloon and Paper stepped across the river silently and into the forest on the other side. Twigs and leaves snapped harshly as Balloon's heavier form walked across it. Balloon looked to Paper who was getting worse as time went on, Balloon was beginning to get concerned.

Paper silently walked through the forest, his head was pounding and he could only really focus on what was ahead... His body ached and the ticking in his chest fast paced. His limp now full as he trudged through leaves and shrubs. His joints stiff and stabbing.

Balloon looked worried and stumbled over, tapping Paper's shoulder. Paper groaned and patted Balloon's hand away only making it another few feet before collapsing. "P-PAPER?" He shouted, running over and collapsing to his knees to check him over. "Paper are you o-okay?!" He worriedly shouted.

Paper, exhausted and injured, whined, and tried to get up again. "No—I'm... I'm okay... Don't worry alright?" He smiled softly, and attempted to sit up, yelping in pain.

"No! Don't—... Don't sit up here...! We can rest! Okay?" He helped Paper over to a tree, and helped him rest against it. He frowned at Paper's state, he felt bad like he himself had pushed Paper this far.

Paper muttered curses beneath his breath to himself. He wished he could go on, but his body needed time to regenerate itself, and it was beginning to painfully do so. "I'm sorry..." He sighed, and shut his eyes tiredly.

Balloon shook his head, "No... Don't apologize... It's fine." He muttered, and sat next to Paper, and leaned on him, looking at the greenery ahead. That had been all there was ahead anyway. "I shouldn't have pushed you..." He said meekly.

Paper sighed, and painfully raised his arm to Pat the young boy's head. "Don't blame yourself...—" He gushed with a tired voice, wincing in pain as his wounds regenerated from the inside out. "—I shouldn't have pushed us."

Balloon nodded, and looked to the side, back at his wings. "They still ache..." he muttered, the now metal wings flutter and he leaned back against Paper and the tree again. "Where is everyone...?" He whined, not naggingly, simply worried.

Paper shrugged and dug his free hand into the grass below due to his pain. "I'm... Not sure..." he frowned, closing his eyes. "I hope OJ's okay." He mumbled worriedly.

Balloon scowled and looked to the side, hugging himself and clutching both arms tightly.

Paper took notice and looked down at him, "Wh...What's wrong?" He asked wearily, as if he was bringing up a sensitive topic, as it likely is.

Balloon shook his head. "It's nothing..." He grumbled, clutching his arms tighter.

Paper frowned more and patted Balloon's head again, "It's clearly not nothing..." Paper pushed, now worried.

Balloon let out an exasperated and pained sigh, reaching up and rubbing his eyes. "It's just— I don't know how you can stand to be around him! You chose to marry him! And all he does is yell and scream and pester me! Says terrible things—! I just— He claims he wants to help...but then he does nothing but scream and yell..." Balloon vented, throwing his arms out.

Paper thought of a way to put things. He blinked and looked ahead, listening to swaying trees in thought. "Well... It's complicated... OJ—... He loves me. He does! He... He's one of the only people in my life that didn't... Mistreat me. Or use me. When I'm around him he makes me feel appreciated." Paper explained.

Balloon pulled his knees to his chest and looked to the side. He wanted to see Paper's side of things, but he... He was angry at OJ. "He makes me think I have to be perfect... That everything I do is useless. That I'm a selfish lazy ASSHOLE! For existing! He says he knows what I did was all in the game—B-but then he... He says I'm not improving...! WHEN IM TRYING MY DAMN HARDEST!" He screamed, barely holding back tears. He avoided saying how he hated OJ, as much as he wanted to hide it, he knew Paper could tell.

Paper felt really bad... He was trying to work on OJ. He really was, but, it felt so out of hand at this point. "Im sure he cares about you too..." Paper muttered, looking away.

"Cares about me? Oh! That's a real good one..." Balloon spat, a tear leaking down his face. "At least Nickel started trying to care, now look where we are! He ALSO makes me feel loved Paper! The difference is he doesn't BERATE THE PEOPLE AROUND ME!" He cried.

Paper winced at Balloon's words knowing it was true, but he wanted to defend his beloved husband. "He's just trying to make sure you don't—...!"

"What? Grow up a failure? By commenting on my dead parents? Making me feel like SHIT CONSTANTLY—?!"

"HES JUST A LITTLE INTENSE OKAY?!" Paper snapped, looking down at Balloon with a scowl implanted firmly into his gaze.

Balloon felt a sense of betrayal wash over him, and he flinched back feeling glass shatter as he was yelled at. He choked out a few tears and scooted away from Paper, curling up into his knees and crying with anger and sadness. "I hate him..." He whined.

Paper felt instant remorse and felt sorry for the young boy. "I didn't mean to yell..."

"Well you did..." Balloon spat back in response. "I'm glad you care about that dick more than me..." He muttered, feeling hurt by Paper's behaviour in defending whom he hates.

Paper narrowed his gaze, "Balloon! That's just not fair! You cant expect me to pick you over my husband! I'm not saying I would pick him over you either! Why cant I just care about you both equally?!" He shouted back, pain taking hold, he groaned and grasped at his injuries.

"BECAUSE YOU DON'T!" Balloon snarled, snapping his head back at Paper with an ugly crying face on. "I TRY to tolerate him for you! I TRY EVERY DAY to make that DAMN MAN HAPPY! And he does nothing but YELL and NAG! THAT IM SCUM!" He growled, clenching and digging nails into the sides of his arms. "YOU DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ME! IM NOT YOUR KID! SO YOU WON'T GIVE A DAMN." Balloon spat back.

"That—that's not true..." Paper whined.

"NICKEL MAKES ME FEEL LOVED! HE DEFENDS ME AGAINST OJ AND NEVER THE OTHER WAY AROUND!" Balloon cried in anger and despair. "You say you'll help him change— that you'll talk to him... But you don't." He spat.

Paper whined, and cowardly looked away, knowing Balloon's words were true. He knew OJ wasn't attempting to adapt as he should, if at all... Even after their talk... but... He could fix it. Something would humble OJ... And if nothing else would he would have to. Surely... Paper opened his mouth to speak but,

"Don't... Don't even start... Just rest. I don't want to continue this conversation anymore..." He sniffled, curling up against the tree in his metal wings.

Paper frowned, and gave a sad nod. "I'm sorry..." He painfully whispered.

———

Microphone sat by the fire, the cave above dripping with droplets of the melted icicles above. She shivered and hugged herself, trying to ignore the overwhelming cold. She looked around at similar reactions from the other three boys. "A-are you guys alright?" She asked, shivering.

"Ugh..." Knife groaned, clutching his abdomen... "The Ice isn't helping my injury..." He grumbled, leaning up against Pickle with a tired gaze.

Pickle pulled him close and gave a shivering sigh out to yonder. He looked at the fire dance and reflect off the surrounding snow beyond the cave, and that which poured in from the blizzard outside. "Besides feeling like complete garbage? Yeah... Peachy..." Pickle hissed.

Trophy was angrily trying to ignore the cold, refusing to shiver and instead suffering in a 'manly' way. Though it just made him look strained and stupid. Like he was constipated or something.

Microphone glanced up at Trophy, watching him stubbornly spite the cold. She snorted and giggled with a slight shiver, her breath seen as she laughed.

"It's not funny!" Trophy growled as he shot a death glare to the girl laughing across from him. "I'm not a Pussy like you guys." He spat, looking at the fire now instead of Mic.

Microphone only laughed harder, "It looks like you're trying to shit yourself!" She said in a hysterical fit of laughter. "Man Knife was right when he said you're ridiculous!" She giggled.

"WHAT?!"

"Damn straight I was." He chuckled, and sat up a bit more against Pickle. He glanced over and scoffed, smiling after, "I mean... shes not wrong." He muttered with a smirk.

Pickle chuckled in response and glanced at Trophy, who was fuming, but then froze. His eyes narrowed as he watched something emit from his cup. "Uh... Trophy?" Pickle muttered pointing up at his cup.

"Poking fun some more are we?! Fuck off!" He snarled, barring teeth at Pickle, his brows pinched in petty rage.

"No—dude... Your cup...! It's sparking!" Pickle pointed out.

Trophy raised a brow, and felt for it, confusion replaced his anger and the light dissipated. Upon reaching for what Pickle saw, it disappeared. Trophy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "There's nothing in there you idiot..." he said exasperatedly.

Pickle narrowed his eyes skeptically. "Whatever you say..." he muttered.

Microphone glanced back out at the blizzard outside the cave, which was behind her. She could feel the frigid air hit her back. She worried for Taco, she wondered if Taco ended up nearby... What if she have was in danger. "I'm worried about Taco..." She said aloud.

"Taco? I'm sure she's fine." Pickle shrugged, "I mean, she must've been in that forest over the course of winter before..." Pickle explained, justifying his thought process.

"That doesn't necessarily mean it's pleasant! I hardly can stand this cold with a fire...!" She retaliated, a glare now staring through Pickle's very soul. It made him turn away in an instant.

"Why do you care?" Trophy asked. "Do you have a crush on that woman or something? I heard she was a scumbag." Trophy announced cynically.

"What?! NO!" Microphone flinched, her face lightly turning pink with embarrassment, she shook the thought away instantly. "No! She's just been through a lot!" Microphone jabbed a finger at Trophy.

"The song you sang implies a different story." Knife muttered dismissively, not exactly fond of Taco all that much, or this topic.

"It was the only lullaby I knew...! Listen—I... I don't have a crush on her, alright? I don't even know if we're really friends? I'm just trying easy the load..." Microphone explained sighing sharply.

"You seem to trust her that much." Knife gravelled with a scowl, shooting his gaze back at Microphone. The stone beneath him scraping against the wood he was made of as he shifted in his place.

The dampness made the air that much more heavy as Microphone struggled to come up with the words to describe what she felt towards the other girl. "I... I want to trust her. I want to... See her in a good light again. But... I'm worried that's just loneliness... That... Perhaps, She hasn't changed... That when this comes to pass, I'll just a be a tool again. If I ever was..." She hugged herself.

"I know what if feels like to be used." Knife explained, shooting a look at Trophy, then turning his eyes back to Microphone. "You cant let her get you thinking these things. If you doubt she's healthy for you, cut her off as you did previously." He explained.

Pickle decided to stay out of this. He knew why Taco did what she did, but this wasn't his place to speak.

"I think she's trying...!" Microphone spoke up, a worried face implanted on her gemstone head. A doubt rested in the back of her mind, and Knife's soul piercing glare could tell it was there.

"What if she's not?" He raised a skeptical brow.

"But—You don't know for sure..." Microphone reasoned, hugging herself closer with anxiety encroaching in on her mind. "You don't..."

"I know. But, It's a possibility you need to come to terms with." He explained, "maybe she appreciates you now, but will abandon you later." Knife judged, looking at Microphone with a now concerned stare.

"Stop! No... Her... He emotions seem genuine..." Microphone reasoned, clutching her arms tighter, scared she was justifying behaviour that really was wrong or malicious. "It could—Be... The real her." She whined.

"Emotion can seem genuine in the moment, but show colours that you didn't know existed in the future." He retaliated with concern, "Listen, I'm not trying to make you hate Taco. I'm just looking out for you Mic... Keep an eye on her. Don't lose track of your morale as you did before." He crossed his arms.

Pickle gave a subtle nod in agreement, "Though you pity her, and... Feel bad for her... It doesn't mean you have to agree with what she does. Even if she has a reason for it." Pickle explained. "When I figured out why she did what she did... I didn't agree with her actions. But I learned to live with myself, and come to terms with what happened, for the most part."

Microphone frowned in thought, staring down at the damp stone below.

"Just know your voice should be heard too." Pickle perked up, sitting up straighter, "You never know when someone will hurt—"

Microphone blinked out a face of anger, "She's CHANGING! She wouldn't... Push boundaries like that again... He wouldn't betray me... or Hurt someone without reason... I know it." She said firmly.

Pickle flinched at Microphone's rigid insistence. He sighed, and nodded. "If you say so..." he didn't want to argue. He put his cold arm around Knife and closed his eyes slightly to rest.

Trophy eavesdropping, decided to keep his mouth shut. He had nothing of value to say. Nothing that wouldn't be ignore or scolded for anyway.

Microphone's gaze softened, and she watched the dancing Fire, thinking about the days and times ahead. Hardships that would be faced were more than she even knew in that moment. Perhaps it's best they're left with a moment of rest,

And silence.

———