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"Purpled," Eighty says.
"I know, I know," Purpled snaps back, stamping his feet hard in place. Dust showers off his shoes, down between the slats of the balcony, and below there's a grumble like groaning stone and a murmuring complaint bubbling like water. Purpled brushes hands over his tunic, watches the dust collect and swirl.
"Bastard!" Hannah — he thinks, it's been so long he can't exactly tell, and isn't that a kicker — calls, as the last of it blows away. It's faint, though, and drowned out by another shout.
"Woah woah woah," Purpled says, backing up enough to brace himself as Xen hurtles out onto the balcony, all energy and volume and warm weight. Eighty pushes off away from the edge of the platform, tip of his sword barely digging into the wood of it. His face contorts briefly before the alarm disappears again.
"Hey there," Xen says shamelessly, his voice the kind of overexaggerated high of excitement as if he didn't nearly barrel into both of them and send them all three crashing back to the streets below. Like a dog, damn.
"Xenbe, chill the fuck out, man. Come on," Purpled complains, as Xen grabs him anyway. "Xen, I'm gross."
Fond, though.
"When aren't you," Xen snips, lively and grinning. His feathers fluff out behind him.
"Okay, wow," he says, not quite stung but annoyed now, at least. His nerves have gotten tender in Quackity's lovely little games, he guesses. He rakes a hand through his hair, almost frustrated. Xenbe must see some of it in his face because he doesn't say anything else, just tugs a little harder.
Dogchamp follows them, head bumping against Purpled's calves and tail swishing. The stairs are a winding narrow thing, but Dogchamp followed him into fuckin' space.
"I just landed," Eighty says, as Xen starts across the bridge to ground-level, walking ahead of them and so much faster that he Purpled nearly loses him around each corner. Purpled sends him a questioning glance. "I just landed and you want me to trek through the mud?"
Purpled chokes his own laugh away.
"There's more on you than there could ever be down there," Xen shoots back, voice echoing.
"I resent that," Eighty says placidly. "I fought a demon on the way here, alright?" The floor gets sturdier beneath their feet as they tread into the residential areas, and Purpled sets his weight down properly for the first time since landing.
The inside of the bedwars towers are always occupied, and Purpled takes a moment to accustom himself to it again. The bustle. Eighty's talking, voice gentle and familiar, but Purpled's losing himself into the hum of woven wood and concrete jungle.
Trusting his weight to something— anything— has been reserved for home his entire life. His trip to the cloud court didn't change anything, really only cemented it all.
"Yo!" Purpled spins and feels his own smile split his face, it's so wide. "Purpled Bedwars," Walli says cheerfully, leaning way out of his hollow. "Gamerboy Eighty!" Purpled can't quite hide his snicker at the familiar drawl. He catches the bag Walli tosses him, feels the thrum of energy beneath the cloth. Walli's always had a funny sense of what a good gift makes.
"Walli," Eighty drawls right back. "Hey."
"S' been a while," Walli says. "I'ma hafta catch you later, though." Xen's eyes light with recognition, and he opens his mouth, but Walli cuts him off, waving his staff a little haphazardly. "I'll tell you later! Shh. See you, Purp, Gamerboy."
"Mm," Eighty says. When Walli's out of sight out of hearing — Eighty's always known better than most, exactly what their capacities are — he turns to Purpled, blinking. "He alright?"
Purpled startles. "I mean, I think so," he says.
"Hiding something," Eighty decides. "Doesn't matter. We'll meet with the others later."
"Oh, will we," Purpled grumbles.
"Yes," Eighty says, airy. Purpled knows how fast he'd turn firm if pressed.
"I'd rather not," Purpled says as brightly as he can anyway.
"Too bad," Eighty says drily. There it is. "They have separation anxiety, Purp. Would you deny them this?"
They don't, and he would. That's the truth, too, not one of those manipulative half-lies he learned so well a year ago how to spill everywhere. Purpled gives in anyway.
Purpled doesn't actually drink coffee, nor do any of them, but Eighty drinks this hellish mix he claims is energising but really probably depends entirely on the sugar and is going to give him a heart attack one day. He offers Purpled this concoction as they settle around the round room.
Purpled declines, flat.
"Really," Eighty says, swishing the mug thoughtfully.
"Not on my life, Walli's, or yours," Purpled tells him, all gentled edges. Eighty snickers. Magic thrums through his still healing arm as he tucks himself back in, small.
Takes a bit to unfurl, proper. Purpled's been away the longest, but it's been at least three months for Eighty too. Shit happens.
Around them the city breathes, warm wood, and Purpled has missed that more than he can really say.
Eighty glances up a moment before Astelic whisks herself in first, sliding on her heels against the polished heartwood.
"Purp!" she says, sunny.
"What've you got for me," he says. Astelic tosses him a coin, and he snatches it, hand closing palm to face. Astelic rubs her thumb over and over her pink-purple nails as she waits. Still got that habit. "What is this, a bad luck token?" he demands.
Astelic huffs, and opens her mouth, except then she's nearly bowled over by Xen's reentry.
"It's just going to be us today," he announces, and Astelic scowls and tosses her hair. Eighty gestures her over to take a seat, flipping his sheathed knife one more time out of sight.
"What is this," Purpled repeats, shaking his sleeve out of the way to hold out the coin. It's unengraved, now he's paying attention, just copper pressed flat and perfectly round.
"Hounds in the night," Astelic says cryptically, still clearly annoyed.
"Hold on, you two," Eighty says, waving them off. They both glare at him, something he ignores gracefully. "Just us?"
"Maybe C," Xen acknowledges grudgingly. "He's trying to charm a rock right now though. Or at least that's what I got from the schematics and mumbling and — you know, rocks. He won't let anyone in long enough to bother him, or, like, talk to him."
"Hm," Eighty says, sounding unconcerned.
"Are you fighting," Xen says suspiciously.
"Why would you think that," Eighty says.
"So yes?" Astelic butts in. This is all news to Purpled; he's been away much longer than the others.
"No," Eighty says, with a weight behind it like the crackle before a storm. It's gone in an instant. Sounds like everyone's gotten a little harder since the city burned.
"You're so pathetic," Astelic says, lightly sweet. Eighty considers that like he's deciding something and then just pretends he didn't hear.
Purpled reaches for the cup next to him with his eyes still carefully fixed between them and yelps when he lifts it to his lips and instead gets a mouthful of — whatever.
"You snake," he growls. Eighty cackles, unapologetic. The crackle eases.
"Yeah, and a good one too," he says. Plumpy flicks her tail like a reminder, all fluid muscle.
"You're guilty too," Purpled accuses her, not too sharply. "Complicit. You sneaking thieves." She rises, hood flaring, and Dogchamp lowers himself into a snarl.
"Hey hey hey," Xen says.
"Hm," Purpled says. Both familiars settle, scales and fur. "Astelic?"
"Hounds," she enunciates.
Purpled frowns. It's not like he's expecting anything concrete from her, but. "In the night," he repeats.
"Well, no," Astelic says. The door opens and cuts her off, and Purpled hears the little growl from the back of her throat.
Chaz does too, with his horrifically acute hearing, and he looks alarmed. At the same time, though, if even Chaz is interrupting and catching her irritation now, it's no wonder her refusal to elaborate. Not, he supposes, that the skies seem especially inclined to let her at all.
Or maybe it's just that they've all gotten too used to being alone, without the chafe of each other keeping them all in check.
"Nobody told me the terror twins were back in," Chazm observes. "I thought you were in deep cover." This he addresses to Purpled.
"I hadn't noticed," Purpled says drily. He's beginning to understand the itchy irritation Astelic carries like a charm on a bracelet. But then Chaz laughs and the moment smooths away, wind over waves. He's always been good at that.
"They're pulling everyone out," Astelic says, baring her teeth.
"Mmh," Chaz says. They don't send him out anymore, not since—
Well. Dragonfire and black cats, and he's still gold as he ever was. He fought to stay, though, and none of them will ever take that from him.
Eighty coughs very lightly. "No?" he prompts, and it takes Purpled a moment. But Astelic dips her head, stops swirling her wrist in her over-honeyed tea. He can taste the too-sweet bitterness on the back of his palate even this far away.
"Black hounds," she says. "White fox." Purpled startles.
"It's not time," Chaz says, beating him to it. "Are you sure?"
Astelic scowls. "So says the augurs," she says.
"We're not due for another for months," Eighty interjects.
"That's the point," Astelic says, exasperation tinting it.
"Where's the coin from?" Purpled says. "Token," he corrects, before any of the pedants can.
"Augurs," Astelic says.
"Okay then," Eighty says, standing. He digs his phone out of his pocket.
"What," Xen says, and then, "no burners in the house!"
"Technically I'm not home," Eighty says. "Squid, hey. We're heading down. Can you get the normals out?"
"The fuck? Who is this," fizzles over the line, faint and familiar and suspicious. He's always caught up fast, though. "Yeah, sure. Hey, guys. Guys, get. Yeah, you heard." There's distant thumping. "What d'you want? Didn't even know you were in-city."
"Someone opened the gates on the sky-hounds," Purpled interjects, a little louder than he's all that comfortable with at the moment. It's fine.
"Ah," Squid says. "Huh. I assume that's not what they pulled you out of deep cover for."
"It's more a symptom," Astelic says.
"Thought so," Squid agrees. "What do you need?"
Eighty's putting his shoes on now. Purpled didn't take his own off, which Astelic notices. And wrinkles her nose at him for. Squid stays on the line, talking amiably to Chaz now. But then they're down in the city, crossing the bridge without stepping on cracks or toes and Purpled's like a coiled spring, life of the city bleeding into him. The breeze blows, wrapping around Astelic as they pass every alley.
Walli was right. S' been a while.