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"Good morning, Under!" Wispy greeted cheerily as he tied the curtains away from the now wide open window of said void-being's room.
Under, curled up in a massive nest of blankets on their bed, growled irritably and just gave the spirit of their late best friend an icy glare through lilac eyes-- well, almost as icy as the room with the blizzard now blowing in.
"It's fucking- four in the morning." They grumbled miserably, mostly out of spite for Wispy's annoyingly endearing sunny-disposition.
But it was hard to think about the ghost's feelings when Under was *loosing feeling* in their talons and paws- or so they had been called.
Under wasn't quite sure what cats were about but they were very sure that they weren't one.
Even if maybe they'd been known to purr...
Either was, maybe building in an ice spikes biome- arguably the harshest of colds there is- wasn't such a good idea.
But then again the estate wouldn't have looked the same on the beach.
Nonetheless, Under cursed Snoozi and his wild ideas. And everything else about him for that matter. It was easier to be angry than to grieve. They'd done that before, too many times. It all ended the same.
Shaking themselves from that line of thought, the old creature of the void drug themselves up from bed, taking a few layers of blankets with them as they drew themselves to about 3/4 their full height in their hunched over, blanket laden, half asleep form to glare at Wispy evenly.
The ghost, oblivious to the two glowing purple eyes boring a hole through the back of his semi-translucent head, much to Under's dismay, busied himself fussing with anything that he'd deemed in need of tidying in the being's messy room.
And they liked it that way, thank you very goddamn much.
Snoozi used to do the same thing.
"Is it? Oh, is that too late? I'm sorry, I can never tell. I know how you are with clocks- and it's sort of hard to tell where the moon and sun is with this weather." Wispy rambled, stumbling over his words here and there with a bright smile over at the void-being, who looked extremely unamused with dark circles under their eyes from the usual lack of sleep.
Under had some sort of unexplained fear/hate of clocks. They would under no circumstances ever explain it, but no clocks allowed.
It was the ticking that bothered them.
"Yes. The weather. The fuckin *blizzard* outside. You know, the one blowing in through the window you broke into my room to open." They groused sardonically, gesturing a spindly, clawed hand towards the window, letting snow blow in onto the exotic carpet on the floor.
"If I wanted to catch hypothermia, I think I'd dunk myself in the fishtank and go sit on the roof for awhile. NOT while I'm trying to *sleep* for once, Sn-- Wispy."
They caught themselves at the last second and pinched the bridge of their nose- or what functioned as one.
Breathing wasn't actually *necessary* for a manifestation of the void, but not at least making the rising and falling motion in their chest seemed to worry a lot of people. And perhaps this flesh and blood fourm they'd been using for awhile would appreciate the oxygen in order to operate. How annoying.
Speaking of annoying.
The ghost paused in the midst of quickly closing the window again, of course, catching the little slip-up as usual. He seemed particularly sensitive to being called by the name.
It was so strange- the way his voice matched Snoozi's so familiarly, but couldn't be more different at the same time.
Snoozi's was velvety, though nowhere near soothing to the unfamiliar ear with the jagged edges and uneven way of talking.
Under's was almost the exact opposite. All artificially smoothed down and deadpan, easily convincing if they could keep themselves from cracking up.
But those were memories of a warmer time, and the old creature made a point to avoid thinking back on them at all costs now.
"You were going to call me 'Snoozi' again..." Wispy pointed out quite obviously as usual with a look of something akin to hurt.
They couldn't ever tell with that sort of thing.
"So?" Under countered shortly, feigning ignorance as they stepped over to slam the window shut when the spirit fell short.
"You still won't tell me who that is?"
There was a flicker of something dangerous and far less humane than the front they'd kept up.
"No."
And that was the end of the conversation.
From there, the two would go about their much more individual -lonely- routines as opposed to the little rituals Snoozi always had, and Under would more or less loom over his shoulder for curiously in the beginning. After awhile, the individual routines had melded together purely by picking up one another's 'quirks'.
Damnit.
Forgetting was going to be a lot harder than it was supposed to be.