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Everything hurt.
Golden Cheese slouched from the weight of the wings upon her back, warring with the shoulder blades there. She imagined someone took sandpaper to her feathers with how they pinched and pressed together, which only drove the actual sand trapped at the bases to the forefront of her mind.
Rings scored white canyons into the wine glass she held. The pungent pink inside sloshed ever so slightly each time her focus upon it slipped.
Boisterous laughter reached her ears, and she chuckled along with it, unsure if she was actually supposed to.
The last half of her mind cared only for intently watching the movement of the lips which made that sweet laugh—stained pink as the tongue which occasionally darted out to wet them.
She counted the wrinkles which surrounded them—many she remembered, others new—and did her best to commit each to memory as the jewels they were—some of the ones which hurt the most to imagine she ever lost.
All of them did, really, Hollyberry and the rest.
Something in her ached to have Pure Vanilla and Dark Cacao out of her sight when she had so soon found them again, even as Hollyberry was hardly an arm's length away.
Always wanting more.
The laughter petered out, and Golden Cheese realized she had no idea how long it had been quiet.
Hollyberry stared at her, lips slightly parted and upwards curved.
She was supposed to respond.
How greedy, Golden Cheese wanted the words she missed back, awful to lose such an opportunity to hoard pieces of her friend.
Her own tongue, heavy in her mouth, darted out to soften her lips.
“The dragon?”
Awkward—she cursed herself for it, and more so cursed Hollyberry when she didn't acknowledge the slip beyond the quirk of a brow.
“Pitaya,” Hollyberry nodded, and maybe she had been speaking of it—them?—with the ease she accepted the lackluster response, “they’re relatively new, if you consider a few centuries new. You saw them in the chamber, yes?”
“The one who threatened our Soul Jams.” She raised her glass, hiding away the lower half of her face, “Rather brutish, I recall.”
“Too brutish. You have no need to fear—your soul jam is safe.”
Wafting smoke reached Golden Cheese's senses—must have been the wine.
She took a sip from her glass.
The sweetness was familiar, yet off, no tingling of static to accompany a swallow. Strange how this fantasy had not a single digital touch.
Her shooting pains could be found elsewhere.
”Then I trust it's not him who already...“ she trailed off, the lilt of her voice marking her words as a question. Hopefully that was enough.
She circled her wrist, and by extension, her drink, in the air.
”Already?” Hollyberry only prompted her to continue, leaning further across the small side table that was all that separated them, chin resting in her palm.
The white ruffles of her sleeves only served to contrast the faint flush across her face.
Golden Cheese wasn't sure whether it was her own presence that drew the dusting, or the matching glass Hollyberry held in her hand. She knew which she would prefer, and so she pictured it such.
It, the conversation, was nice, more comfortable than the spoils of the Vanilla Kingdom upon which she sat, and though she wouldn't go so far as to say it compared to that of her kingdom, she would at least concede it was close.
“Already I know the difference,” she began, with chiming which rang out through the room as she tapped her nails to her cup, “but when I came here, I was hoping to find four others, not three.”
A part of her still hoped there would be four if she was just patient, and that part sunk with her stomach when Hollyberry's smile faltered.
She knew the answer she would get.
Just that was enough to have her eyes finally drifting from Hollyberry to the door behind her, illuminated by the dying crackles of the hearth.
It had been easy to forget sunsets before, after having gone so long without, and now she was seeing them everywhere.
“Until Pure Vanilla returned, I only knew of myself and Dark Cacao.”
“I hadn't known of any of you,” it had been nothing but desolation as far as the eye could see, keen as hers were.
She had been all alone: painfully alone.
Alone with her last memories of companionship tainted by horror-stricken faces and flashing lights. New moments had since made better, more current, images of her compatriots for all save one.
The thought that those wide and teary eyes would be the last way she ever saw her Freedom, with nothing to ever replace it—if not for Hollyberry’s presence, Golden Cheese didn’t know if she could bear it.
Even worse was imagining that the doppelganger, the one synonymous with destruction and theft, might live on in her mind longer than the rightful placeholder.
If Pure Vanilla could return, then there was hope, but—no.
White Lily, her fellow holders, were not the same as her city. The denial in her heart matched the flickering embers in the corner of her eye.
She had already mourned them: a thousand year aching loss.
Though it hurt, the pain was not raw. To her dismay, she already had accepted it.
She shifted, tugging to herself her legs that dangled off the arm of her chair. One foot knocked against the bulk, and a sandal fell to the floor. She didn't bother to retrieve it, or even to look at where it rocked, then rested.
“You certainly hid yourself well,” better to ignore the problem, better to pour on praise, even that which was hollow. Hollyberry knew her well.
Perhaps that first one was a trait they both shared.
”Did you expect anything less?“ Golden Cheese’s chin brushed against the curve of her knees as she spoke, and the lopsided smile on her face appeared with less effort than she would have liked.
”Less? Of course not,“ Hollyberry chuckled, pinching joined the crow's feet around her eyes, no less vibrant despite the years, ”but I would have expected some fighting. A nap is new.”
Right.
She told the others she had merely been asleep.
Hadn't she? Her dough certainly felt the stiffness of being immobile for a millennium, even more so that which hadn't been realized in her Soul Jam.
She was sure its Light would have mocked her then, but it stayed blissfully silent.
One more sip, then she placed her glass down atop the table, folding her arms over her knees so that she could lean upon them, “I do love my relaxation.”
Relaxation that could hardly be achieved in the ruins she knew, far from luxurious in their destitute state. That could be fixed in time, however, and she would ensure it.
She could bring back the dead from that empty space, if not bring back her fifth to the emptiness she made.
Greedy—now that Golden Cheese knew what she was missing, she wanted both.
Hollyberry huffed the same jovial way she had all evening, “Some things don't change.”
“Ah, but too much does,” far, far too much, she countered.
“Right you are,” as she oft was, “Have I mentioned I have a granddaughter now?”
If she was still holding her glass, Golden Cheese imagined she would have spilled it all over herself then. Her feathers bristled.
They came down again just as soon as the cold room's air took the chance to find its way to her skin, but it was too late. Hollyberry's laughter was already bursting into her hand.
A wave of blush, one that Golden Cheese would balk at calling embarrassed, darkened her face—matching Hollyberry.
She stumbled over her words, “Wh-What?!”
“I do!”
“You hadn't even mentioned a first child!” Golden Cheese waved her hands about, as if grasping at the air would also give her a better grasp of the conversation.
”Only for a few decades, he oversees that old kingdom now.“
”You just gave it up?“ That was nearly as baffling as the child announcement—no, it was more.
But Hollyberry's smile was one of fondness, “Oh, I don't find such things as pleasurable as you. I might as well leave it to those who do.”
“I can't imagine anyone from you does,” bizarre as a thought that was. She wouldn't be her Passion if she wasn't patently confusing.
”Here I thought the same,“ wine licked at the edge of Hollyberry's glass as it moved, ”No, my son does it well. My granddaughter on the other hand-“
”Too much like you?“
”Precisely enough,“ Hollyberry chuckled, ”I may have to hire you soon if she ever actually begins flying rather than moving fast enough she might as well be.“
Hah.
Golden Cheese had flown only once in the past thousand years. Sure, she could do it, and do it well, but, maybe not as an example, or when watched all that closely, not yet. She was just a little rusty.
Maybe Hollyberry noticed that, because it was her wings which she was staring at.
Bold, Golden Cheese dared stretch them out, fanning them across the chair and then some as their length proved to overshadow it. Her feathers dragged shooting pains on the fabric, and she had to do her best to hide a wince.
Hopefully she did well enough. If not, she struggled to imagine how any could look away from her brilliant feathers contrasting the cream furniture—as well as the rest of the room. The Vanilla Kingdom was far from creative with their color palettes.
Hollyberry beat her to saying anything, ”Old friend, when was the last time your wings got preened?“
“Unfortunately, death doesn’t seem to come with swaths of adoring servants.”
Her tongue burned even as she repressed shivers.
”Most dead don't look like a tornado took them”—another huff—“Come now, drop that face.“
”There is no face,“ Golden Cheese lied. She felt the dig of her mouth into her cheeks, the line of her lips pulled tight.
As if Hollyberry hadn't been at her side when the whirlwind and chaos of Dark Enchantress had hit. Of course her wings could only be as perfect as the situation let them, the same as her body was not wrong for still carrying the half-healed scrapes and bruises it first fell into disuse alongside.
”Do glares usually accompany offers for aid?“
”Quite silly to think that they wouldn't.“
”Then I've been too-long separated from my fellow cookies.“
Golden Cheese couldn't bear doing such, ”Too-long from your god.“
Those tight lips of hers curled upwards, and to the delight of her racing heart, Hollyberry matched it without a second of hesitance.
”Any moment without you all has been too torturous an eternity.”
Them all—right.
Her fellow heroes were just as much her fellow equals. Here she was a queen, but one of none in sight.
Of course that would be one of the things that failed to change: the discomfort that slowly dug its claws into her chest. She had been hoping it would, at least she had been ever since her glass was filled.
Odd how she had gone from disappointing outsiders to disappointing herself. A few weeks of travel shouldn't have been long enough to make that difference. Why, a few weeks was practically no time at all.
How long had she thought that way?
“It's good I'm here to fix that then,” but she couldn't. Even with her presence, the four of them were one too few to be whole, weren't they?
“Naturally.”
With a clink, Hollyberry placed her glass upon the table as well, not even half as full as Golden Cheese's own. The color of the drink it held matched the fresh stains upon neatly knotted gloves which placement proceeded its, removed early in the evening.
Golden eyes were drawn to it, then to the hand only breaths away from her face.
In way of a request, Hollyberry opened and closed her hand, decorated with calluses that glinted.
The hand Golden Cheese placed within it carried no such mars, nor the lines of age and wrinkles that time had bestowed upon Hollyberry.
Her fingers wrapped around Golden Cheese's, nearly engulfed her whole, so careful of the rings that decorated her digits and the bangles which encircled her wrist.
Hollyberry stood first, her skirts puffing out around her as she did. The ruffles framed the width of her thighs, then hid the rest of her legs again as she sunk to the floor.
Kneeling.
Their eyes did not leave the lock they were in as Hollyberry drew her hand to her chest, but there was enough slack for resistance.
“The floor?” Golden Cheese colored her tone with disgust. How could she? That’s where dirt was.
She could settle to be without a throne, but in what world should she be so lowly as to be relegated to carpet.
”It will be easier to preen your wings here.”
The light of the fire cast shadows over Hollyberry's tilted face, one side bathed in golden glow and the other framed like no painter ever could.
Dimples and all, Hollyberry was more magnificent—and more persuasive—than any portrait.
No, she was a portrait.
“I don't recall agreeing to that,” Golden Cheese's offense waned with her resolve.
“Humor me?” Hollyberry paused only for the time it took to press her lips to the back of the hand before her, ”Warm yourself by the fire, my friend.“
Of course that was all it took.
Golden Cheese told herself she wasn't one to yield so easily, even as her legs moved her forth.
The brighter-sun smile she received was a sufficient reward.
First went her unclad foot, briefly pressing the pad against the floor, as if checking to see if it would burn. Then the rest of her followed in its example, sinking down to match Hollyberry.
She missed never having to look up at people. Everyone was so much taller than they had any right to be.
At least the floor was plush, if itchy. Though it could never be softer than the expression Hollyberry offered up to her—and her alone—then.
Equally treasures.
”Better?“ Golden Cheese shifted where she sat, trying to find any way that might be comfortable. None presented themselves.
”Wonderful,“ that hand that held hers dropped, and Hollyberry trailed her own down to rest at the base of Golden Cheese's back. Twice it brushed against her forearm and waist, and she had to do her best not to stiffen.
The hand was so warm.
Beyond initial greetings, Golden Cheese struggled to remember the last time she had been touched by a friend. Some she remembered digitally, and those she questioned if they had been from friends after all.
Touch, real, physical, touch felt odd after so long.
Gently, Hollyberry pushed her—guided her, really—forward.
Golden Cheese permitted a tap of a wing to her chest in reprimand, but Hollyberry only snorted.
It was a lovely sound. Golden Cheese wished she could capture it in a jar and keep it tucked close to her chest forever.
She would have to be satisfied with Hollyberry's chest to her back, if only for the short moment she stole to reach over and add a few more logs to the fire—her arm nudging the fabric of Golden Cheese's shirt as she did.
It took all her effort not to breathe. She didn’t know why she tried, as if any wrong movement would break the moment, like there was code to disrupt.
The fire burst and cracked at the new addition, spitting sparks from the hearth to die upon the floor. They sizzled and turned black as coal.
Hollyberry's first hand didn't leave its spot, and so Golden Cheese jolted when a second came to touch her foot.
She glared over her shoulder—maybe she did have that face—but Hollyberry didn't wait before pulling off her last sandal and tossing it to its companion.
With far less care than it deserved, Golden Cheese would add.
”Hey!“
”Sorry, sorry.“ there wasn't an apologetic crumb in Hollyberry's body or tone.
”Do you-“ the threats of the colosseum only made it halfway out of Golden Cheese's mouth. Right, her colosseum was just crumbled debris.
Hollyberry would probably enjoy such a thing anyway.
Bizarre.
Instead, Golden Cheese coughed into her hand, ”Get on with it.“
”Demanding are we?“ Words or not, Hollyberry's hands made their way to the base of her wings, thumbing the point where skin became feathers.
”Is it unwarranted?“ Maybe unwanted.
”Of course not, I'd be a fool to think so.”
She might just be a fool in general if Golden Cheese remembered the clumsiness of her fingers correctly.
She really was gracious to give Hollyberry a chance like this.
The pads of thumbs pressed against muscle. Blunt nails scratched in just a way that Golden Cheese couldn't help but lean back into it, much to Hollyberry's amusement.
“You're altogether too proud of this.”
She had a right to be, just not the way that she was.
Deft was far from the right way to describe Hollyberry's fingers as they trailed up the scapulars and across a wing's expanse to primary feathers, plucking apart tangles as she went, but Golden Cheese wouldn't put herself through the work it took to think of anything more fitting.
It didn't pass her notice how Hollyberry often paused on the downy lower portions of her feathers. They were softer than even her hands.
She was forgiven for dallying with each gentle scratch to the base shaft and the thin layer of dough which covered it. It felt like bliss—enough so that Golden Cheese momentarily wondered why she ever gave up wings in a digital form.
Only momentarily.
The way her feathers fluffed up for easier access without her consent was enough of a reminder.
”Caring for you is another type of adventure.“
Hollyberry wouldn't be herself if she didn't jump into every challenge with a smile. Such was, if not something they shared, certainly something that brought the two of them together. At least it had many years ago, before Soul Jams and growth spurts.
Was she a challenge?
Golden Cheese would much prefer to watch the moon she knew to be just outside of heavy drapes than the miniature sun her eyes met.
She thought not of how she blocked the flames from her partner—how it was she who left her in darkness.
She didn't.
Instead she clicked her tongue, ”Careful, you're making some implications there.“
”Me? Never.“ Holllyberry, breathy, pressed her lips to the expanse of Golden Cheese's neck, just above her large array of jingling necklaces.
She felt the brush of a nose against the puff of her afro, and she wouldn't have the fire claim to be the reason for the warmth of her cheeks.
It was closer to a kiss than that she still felt on the back of her hand. Greedy, she wanted more—not yearned, but craved.
Again, Hollyberry continued before she got the chance, ”I imply nothing more that I've missed this. If only I'd known you were sleeping at home, I would have ventured to pick you up sooner myself.“
Hah.
”Liar,“ Golden Cheese teased, ”you'd get distracted fighting sand jelly worms.”
“Then I'd simply take an extra decade.”
It wasn't as if Golden Cheese would have known the difference.
“A whole decade?” She raised a brow despite the knowledge that there was no way Hollyberry could have seen it. The world was a suitable audience.
It only went away with a wince to pinched feathers.
“If they surround your kingdom, I'm sure they'll be fascinating enough to take so long.”
Flatterer.
She loved it.
“Are fascinating and ferocious the same to you?”
”I'm sure you know the answer to that,“ another twinge and a disconnected feather floated to the ground.
At least being fascinating she could be happy with, ”One day you'll learn to take self preservation into account.“
”And that day you'll complain about losing all your benefits.“
She saw no benefits, ”I would not.“
”You absolutely would,” having gotten close enough as her hands went, Hollyberry closed the small distance she needed to flick Golden Cheese on her naked shoulder.
She jolted—if asked, she'd deny that the noise that burst from her mouth was a squeak.
Too bad that Hollyberry wouldn't listen to her explanation, too busy with her laughter.
Golden Cheese could feel mirth-filled breaths on the bare of her back and slipping beneath feathers, same as she could feel the jut of her lower lip. She wasn't entirely sure if she wanted Hollyberry to see her expression or not.
To be sure she got the message either way, Golden Cheese flapped her wings. The laughter was muffled rather than stopped with a batting to the face and a mouthful of feathers, much to her disappointment.
Without fanfare, Hollyberry wrangled the more unkempt of the two so that she could turn her attention to it. As she did, she shuffled closer so that she could pin the preened wing with her forearm.
All it would take to free it was moving forward. Even just shaking it would be enough, playful as the pin was.
Golden Cheese stayed still.
Hollyberry's knees bracketed her thighs. She was practically on her lap; perhaps if she truly was, she would feel less ruffles tickling her hips.
If not for that it would disturb the caring for her wings, Golden Cheese might have taken over Hollyberry's lap entirely. She'd yet to try it again, but she was confident it would be far closer to a throne than any furniture in the room or castle.
Certainly it would be more comfortable than a rug—yet, it was worth it, she supposed. Her tended wing felt as if it hadn't gone through a millennium of disuse at all.
Maybe it was the fire's influence, but she melted into Hollyberry's work. How nice it was to be adored.
Hollyberry was a good dancer—if not the most delicate—and her fingerwork reflected that.
“Then I suppose it's nice we'll never know what would happen.”
Golden Cheese blinked. To her surprise, her lids had fallen nearly halfway shut.
She had to think for a moment as to what they had been talking about. Her mind was not hazy, but loved.
Right, “Good, I like you just enough as you are.”
“The same to you,” an untwisting of feathers, “I'll hold to my promise even if you take another extended nap.”
But she had already changed so much, “You better. So much recap on Crispia, I'd hate to go through it all again and relearn yourself as well.”
“History had been added, but here I am the same,” the new face at Golden Cheese's back begged to differ, ”If you would believe it, Pure Vanilla even holed me up in the same guest room he always did before.“
It had been frequently used enough to have pictures of Hollyberry upon the dresser, if Golden Cheese's memory served her right. Her memory didn’t prevent her from taking a jab, ”Is that not just his bed?“
Hollyberry's laughter grew her smile, even as it hurt her ears, ”Actually, I was hoping to offer you mine.”
Oh!
Golden Cheese threw her head to look over her shoulder, above the puffed up converts Hollyberry was so perfectly caring for.
“Do you mean-”
“Heavens no, just rest. Your journey has been long,” and so had hers.
Golden Cheese sighed, and embarrassment joined the rest of the flush on her cheeks. Nevermind the natural chill of the atmosphere, her face was burning.
“Then,” she cleared her throat, “Then in that case, I haven't heard of any other accommodations for myself.“
It was much nicer to see the marks of Hollyberry's smile up close: the pink of her lips, her dimples, wrinkles, star-suture freckles, every last part of her was taken into account.
If she was cherished, Golden Cheese would cherish in turn.
”Is that a yes?“
”I know you'll have me.“
Hollyberry rolled her eyes with fondness that nearly hurt, ”The offer has been there for longer than the kingdoms of this world have existed.“
The hands on Golden Cheese's wings had stopped, and that, too, she didn't mind. Her only complaint was when one lifted, and that only lasted for as long as it took for Hollyberry to reach her chin.
She cupped more than grabbed it. As she had guided Golden Cheese to the floor before, then her neck was drawn to crane farther, almost painfully so.
The difference was that, this time, Golden Cheese gave not so much as a hint of resistance. Even the soreness of her neck was nothing compared to that which was relieved from her wings.
”May I?“
Volume control hadn't been a skill learned in the past thousand years, and yet it was nice to ensure the room was full with themselves, as was deserved, as was right.
Golden Cheese swallowed, “For just as long and more still, you may.”
There was the kiss she had been teased by the prospect of.
Hollyberry's lips captured her own. Their faces did not fit like puzzle pieces, but their imperfect slotting was perfect to her.
Eyes closed, nothing was relished but the sensation of their kiss—the moment of joined lips, and even the odd brushings of noses scarcely separated. If either were to stop holding their breath, they would be taking in each other's air.
Another eternity could have passed for all Golden Cheese would have known, mesmerized by her surroundings of warmth and worship and love.
She could have happily spent a thousand years in that moment. Already, she was gearing up to demand another when they parted—only done when their lungs failed them.
Yet how could she have ever finished the request when she opened her own eyes to those before her? Vibrant and framed by thick lashes, uncountable stars inside, anyone would have been knocked breathless.
She was.
Those eyes morphed with the lovestruck grin below them—a face of little but mirth.
“Welcome back.”