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“You don’t sound like Raine,” the Collector said, his voice trembling as he turned towards the puppet advising him closely for the past few hours.
Raine tilted their head, their smile still so unnaturally plastered on. “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about,” they said.
The Collector’s brows furrowed and they squinted at Raine. “Raine Whispers doesn’t talk like that,” they said, rising up off their feet and nearly pressing their face to Raine’s.
The gentlest of splatters against the shining floors of the archive palace were all the Collector needed for their suspicions to be confirmed. Their eyes opened wide and the smell of rotting flesh finally made sense.
“You’re not Raine Whispers.”
The accusation was simple and quiet, but it was enough for Belos to drop the ruse entirely. The smile dropped from Raine’s face and their eyes shined bright, bright blue. Not the kind emerald green Raine was known for.
The Collector threw his fists down in frustration. “You’re a fibber!” He cried, eyes clenched tight and fighting tears at the betrayal. “I don’t like being around fibbers! You’re not being a very good friend right now!”
“Oh, Collector,” Belos said, shaking Raine’s head and letting out a sigh. “I would have hoped you’d have learned.”
Their expression was still soured, but they gathered their magic in their palms and prepared to let out all of their frustrations in one go. “Yeah, and I was hoping you would have learned after I turned you into a stain on the wall!” They roared, leaping forward and wrapping their hands around Raine’s throat tight. The last thing they wanted to do was hurt their precious puppet, but fibbers were not tolerated in the archive. The glossy plastic creaked beneath their small hands and green goo seeped from the tiny cracks they were creating.
That was all they needed.
They pulled every last drop of sticky mud from Raine’s body and squished it between their hands into a tight ball. “I wonder what I should turn you into,” they mused softly, squeezing what little give the ball had. “I think I’d like to talk to my real best friend about this.”
“The best friend who intends to betray you?” Belos snarled with what little strength he had in the Collector’s hands.
“I don’t trust anything fibbers like you tell me,” the Collector said, tossing the ball against the floor and letting it splatter all over before pulling their hand back up and giving the goo another firm squeeze. “All it takes is one broken pinkie swear. King wouldn’t lie to me. That should have tipped me off right away.” Another tight squeeze.
They looked over to Raine’s body. There was only minor damage to their neck. Nothing possibly life-threatening. Not even any scarring where Belos had taken control.
“I’m sorry, Raine,” the Collector said, hovering over the Head Bard’s body and looking down into their sweet smile. “I’ll make sure you’re cleaned up nice and pretty. But I can’t say the same for this fibber.”