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It was pretty common knowledge that Br’aad Vengolor loved “floor time.” He would lay on the floor for hours, staring up at the ceiling while Taxi whisked around the kitchen. He felt that it was “therapeutic.” Gods knew how much he needed that...
Sylnan, on the other hand, did not. He hated being on the floor because it was dirty, and the stupid weird goop that Goobleck tracked around stuck on his shoes and stuck around his house like sand, and this strange world was just gross. How Br’aad could stand his stupid floor time was lost to him.
... Most things that Br’aad did were lost on him.
Anyway, Sylnan was sat in the tiny floorspace of his stupid little house at some godsforsaken hour trying to fasten together this shoddy lead with the power of “brute force and duct tape,” as Dakota had said once. A bowl of slime sat next to him, and he was carefully (see: angrily) weaving the string he’d gathered into a longer cord, and he was totally normal. Calm. Tranquil. Unbothered.
The door knocked not a second later, and any miniscule, infinitesimal amount of chill that resided in his body burned away.
“What do you want?" Sylnan snapped. Not that he bothered to look up to whoever was there, but the sentiment held.
A tired, feminine voice echoed through the door, “Do you know where Hilltree is? I was going to ask Br’aad, but he’s also not here.” The hinges creaked as she stepped inside, allowing a clear view of Cantrip.
“I don’t know?” Although his voice was still snappy, his expression softened to one of neutrality. The two of them weren’t great friends by any means, obviously, but they were kind enough. He wasn’t going to be mean to the kid... again...
They hummed in distaste. “Why are you even awake?” When Sylnan gestured down to the lead, she continued, “Ah. I usually steal my leads from Vyn.”
“The last time I stole from the Prime Defenders HQ, you threatened to kill me,” he deadpanned.
“True. You could probably steal one from, like, Rand and Rolan if you needed one that bad.”
A small laugh escaped Sylnan at the mention of those two very strange men from “Loo Easy Anna.” They had only arrived in this cursed place a few weeks prior, but they were already establishing themselves as the strange, slightly queer (Br’aad’s words, not his) insomniacs who asked suspicious questions and were paranoid about everything. It was a bit funny. It was a lot funny.
“You know that would just be sad, Cantrip.”
She smirked, lacking a bit of their normal sassiness, but calmer than when he’d last seen her. “Eh. Semantics. Like how Le Frog is ‘French.’”
“Sure,” he caved and rolled his eyes. “What are you doing out this late? And why looking for Hilltree?”
“Ah.” She held up her hand to display a bundle of dandelions. “He likes these, right?”
He nodded.
“Was gonna give him some for Christmas.”
“What the hell is ‘Christmas?’”
She shrugged slightly. “It used to be a religious holiday on Earth, but it’s mostly just a secular gift-giving tradition on Prime now. Kind of like birthdays but once on a specific day a year and for everyone who celebrates. I don’t really know how long we’ve been here, nor if time even passes the same way, but Tide wanted to celebrate... So.” They lifted the flowers lazily a second time.
“We had something similar where we’re from, I think. Uh... Oíche na Soilse. Was a cool light ceremony thing. Never really saw it much, but Br’aad enjoyed it.” Sylnan shrugged and grabbed another stupid glop of slime to spread on the lead.
“Yeah. I owe Hilltree after the whole gay soup thing, so--”
His eyes snapped up. “You’re thanking him for poisoning me?”
Cantrip scoffed, “He took your vision for ten seconds.”
“It hurt!”
“Be gay then.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?"
“Be gay.”
Sylnan squinted at them, and they smiled. “Grow up,” he demanded.
“No.” She rummaged in her bag for a second and walked back outside, leaving the door open.
“Can you-- Oh, you piece of shit!” Hopping to his feet, Sylnan followed her out the door to ensure she wasn’t going to, like, blow something up or whatever. “What are you--”
“Gay now,” Cantrip declared as she planted an orange and pink flag in front of his house.
“What?”
“Well, not really for you because you’re not a lesbian, but it’s the only flag I had on me.” She smoothed it down so it swayed nicely in the breeze. “Eh. Sylnan for lesbians, I guess.”
He blinked. “Sylnan for-- What?”
They leaned their weight on his house like they had accomplished something great. “The flag is for people who aren’t men who like exclusively non-men. Like me. You’re an ally now I guess. Slay.”
“Okay???”
“Bye.” Cantrip said, getting a running start and hopping the fence. In seconds, she was out of his sight.
Sylnan stood in the cool night air for a long while, just staring at the flag in front of him. “Sylnan for lesbians, I guess?”
It was probably a good time to go to sleep...