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It had to be on one of the days Kirby was on Popstar. That much was non-negotiable, Elfilin reported apologetically.
Bandana Waddle Dee had been expecting this, meaning they weren’t particularly surprised to hear it. Kirby, in comparison, all but threw a tantrum.
“It’s not fair!” they’d cried over the castella cake Bandana Waddle Dee and Elfilin had given them in an attempt to soften the blow. “I’m nice! Everyone likes me!”
“You are nice!” Elfilin had assured them, frantically patting their head while Kirby had slumped over the café table in despair. “Everyone does like you! It’s just that, um—"
“Everyone goes at different speeds,” Bandana Waddle Dee had offered, earning a look of gratitude from Elfilin. “Some people need a little time before they can call themselves friends with a person they’ve fought with before, you know?”
They were thinking of the Great King when they said this, suspecting Kirby would think of him as well. Sure enough, at their words, Kirby pulled themselves back upright, looking thoughtful.
“Maybe we need to get into another fight sometime?” they’d mused, and while that could have been a dangerous train of thought, it was at least an improvement over their sulking, and so both Bandana Waddle Dee and Elfilin had answered something to the effect of sure, why not.
It had to be at night. This, too, was non-negotiable.
“It’s just that there will be fewer people around then,” Elfilin had explained.
This was something else Bandana Waddle Dee had been expecting. Thankfully, Kirby didn’t seem to be particularly surprised by it either. It was hard to say, sometimes, just how much Kirby cared to know or understand things they weren’t told directly, but all they had to say upon hearing this was, “That will be fun! Think of how many stars you’ll see! Oh, but the café is closed at night, so you’ll have to pack plenty of snacks ahead of time.”
The final condition—another non-negotiable, although come to think of it, none of the conditions had been negotiable—was that Bandana Waddle Dee had to be there. But that was fine. Given what they wanted to do, it made sense, and besides, Bandana Waddle Dee would have wanted to be there no matter what. How else were they to make sure Fecto Elfilis didn’t cause any trouble?
They’d tried to say as much (and quite bravely, too, they’d thought), but Elfilin had just looked sweetly confused by the declaration.
“It’s okay. They won’t do anything bad,” they’d said. “They know they’re not supposed to, now.”
“Is knowing they’re not supposed to really enough…?” Bandana Waddle Dee had ventured to ask.
“I told them not to, so it’s fine!”
Is your telling them really enough? Bandana Waddle Dee had wanted to ask. But they could already hear Elfilin blithely answering of course!, as though their word alone settled things, and so there didn’t seem to be much point.
In fairness, it seems as though Fecto Elfilis really hasn’t tried to do anything particularly evil since becoming one again with Elfilin. At least, nothing Bandana Waddle Dee knows about. The worst has been the occasional rude comment come flying out of Elfilin’s mouth, and those were always followed by an embarrassed apology from Elfilin.
They are, Elfilin claims, doing their best. And if they are, then Bandana Waddle Dee will do their best too.
That’s how it comes to be that, one night long after the sun has set and the stars have started winking peacefully in the midnight sky, Bandana Waddle Dee finds themselves knocking on the door of the little round house shared by Kirby and Elfilin.
It’s Elfilin who answers and they smile warmly as they welcome them inside. “Thank you for coming even though it’s so late,” they say in that earnest way of theirs as Bandana Waddle Dee takes a seat on a cushion beside the low table. “Are you tired? Do you want a drink or a snack or anything?”
“No, I’m good, I slept most of the afternoon,” Bandana Waddle Dee says. They pat the satchel they’d brought with them. “And since I thought Kirby had the right idea, I brought snacks with me.”
“Ahh, I’m kind of jealous!” Elfilin laughs. “Will you make snacks for me too sometime?”
“Of course!”
Elfilin beams and drifts towards the cushion opposite Bandana Waddle Dee, but as they take their seat, their expression turns serious.
“We really do appreciate this,” they say. “It’s a little scary, trying something new, but it’s less scary, knowing you’ll be there.”
“You don’t have to, if it’s scary.”
“We want to,” Elfilin says firmly, adding, “But it may take a little while. We’ve never done it this way before.”
“What do you mean, this way?”
“Having Elfilis come out on purpose,” Elfilin explains. Despite their solemnity, their tail is swishing slowly, as if a part of them always needs to be moving. “They’re there, most of the time, but usually, they’re just watching. If something happens, it’s easy, but we’ve never tried bringing them out just to play before. It might not work.”
Bandana Waddle Dee wonders if play is a Fecto Elfilis-approved word. Probably not; conditions was the word they had apparently insisted on for what Bandana Waddle Dee was fairly certain would be closer to requests for accommodation. That kind of person didn’t seem the sort to say I want to play, even to their other half.
“Can they hear me?” they ask.
“I think so. They’re close.”
What made them close sometimes and not-so-close other times? Wasn’t ‘inside a person’s heart’ the closest you could get? But no matter. If there was a chance they could hear, Bandana Waddle Dee would be careful.
“Don’t they want to come out?” they ask, which is the politest way they can think to ask then why did they cause everyone so much trouble before if they don’t even know if they like being outside now, like honestly.
“It’s not really about wanting,” Elfilin replies. The swishing of their tail has begun to slow and their gaze falls to the paws they’ve pressed together before them. “Even if we both want to, it’s like…they’re just so often tired, and even when they aren’t, they don’t like others looking at them, so…so they need a reason, you see? Even if they want to?”
Bandana Waddle Dee doesn’t see, in fact. But before they have to confess this fact, Elfilin gives an awkward little laugh and takes their paws apart.
“I’m not really sure how to explain it, actually!” they say, looking embarrassed. “Some things are easier and some things are harder; that’s just the way it is. But we’re going to give it our best shot,” they add, and the light in their eyes takes on a determined gleam. “So wish us luck!”
“Luck!” Bandana Waddle Dee wishes obediently. “Luck, luck, luck—"
But Elfilin is no longer listening. Their expression has already turned vacant, their eyes already fallen shut. They are clearly someplace else, now, someplace far away, and Bandana Waddle Dee doesn’t know if their voice can reach them now, and so they say nothing at all, simply waiting to see who emerges.
Bandana Waddle Dee has seen the way Elfilin’s eyes flutter open after naps. They do not do so now. Instead, they blink, slowly and heavily. They don’t appear to see Bandana Waddle Dee at first, but then a tiny shudder ripples through them, and with something like a start, their gaze snaps into focus.
“Bandana one,” Fecto Elfilis says. “Spear.”
“Not inside the house,” Bandana Waddle Dee says firmly. “Outside.”
Fecto Elfilis isn’t as reluctant to go outside as Bandana Waddle Dee had feared they might be, but they guess that makes sense; they’re the one all of this is for, no matter how much they may be trying to hide behind their ‘conditions’, as though they’re the one doing anyone a favour. That being said, they do wait for Bandana Waddle Dee to leave first, only exiting the house once they’ve cast their gaze about and confirmed there are no stray Waddle Dees squeaking in the area.
Upon floating out into the yard, they repeat, “Spear.”
The spear Bandana Waddle Dee offers them is a wooden training spear with a blunted rubber tip, the kind used by newly recruited Waddle Dees who are more used to handling parasols. If they feel any dissatisfaction about this fact, they refrain from vocalizing it, instead simply adjusting their grip on the shaft as if to acquaint themselves with its weight.
“Not yours,” they remark. “Remember yours.”
“A real spear would be too dangerous.”
Fecto Elfilis grunts, a begrudging acknowledgement, and Bandana Waddle Dee ventures to ask, “Don’t you have a spear, though? I remember it being very…pointy.”
“Antares,” Fecto Elfilis says with pride, nodding. “Very pointy. Yes. Hurt you. Pink one also.” Then, in a flat voice: “Shouldn’t. Have hurt. Wrong to do so.”
“Did Elfilin tell you to say that?”
They don’t answer.
“Problem,” they say instead.
“What kind of problem?”
Fecto Elfilis returns the training spear to Bandana Waddle Dee and extends a small paw. From it, light shimmers and splits, blooming into a lance easily several times their height. It immediately begins tipping forward under its own weight, Bandana Waddle Dee going, whoa, whoa, whoa! as Fecto Elfilis tries to hold it back, until, in another burst of light, it disappears.
“Big,” Fecto Elfilis declares, voice grave.
“Big,” Bandana Waddle Dee agrees.
“Too big,” Fecto Elfilis adds, casting a glare at the empty space where Antares had been. “This form—too small.”
“So you want to practice using spears better suited to the way you are now?
Fecto Elfilis nods, and it may just be Bandana Waddle Dee’s imagination, but they think they look pleased by their understanding.
“Not forcing,” they say abruptly. “Asking. Understand? Asking.”
“You didn’t really ask. That was more telling.”
Fecto Elfilis falls silent.
“You could ask now,” Bandana Waddle Dee offers helpfully.
“You’ll tell Elfilin? If I ask?”
“Can’t Elfilin see?”
They look at Bandana Dee with a look of the purest disdain and do not answer.
“Spear,” they say instead.
Technically, they still haven’t asked anything, but Bandana Waddle Dee would rather not spend the whole night arguing. “The training ground is close by. Do you want to go there?”
They don’t say yes, but do they do float in the direction of the town square before stopping and turning, clearly expectant. Bandana Waddle Dee obediently steps forward to verify the square is as empty as it seems to be, but thankfully, Waddle Dees, even those who’ve taken an interest in living more independently, tend to abide by certain rituals. It’s past bedtime, and that means everyone, save the night watch posted on the town perimeter, is fast asleep.
Fecto Elfilis stays close as they make their way to the training ground. Bandana Waddle Dee does their best not to make their occasional glance back to check on them too obvious, but despite their proximity, they seem to be all right tonight. They guess that’s the difference made by being out because they choose to be versus only being out because Elfilin is sleeping. Or maybe they’re just that excited over the prospect of being able to swing a spear soon.
The training ground is a small patch of land behind the Colosseum, enclosed by a wooden fence and furnished with practice dummies provided by Weapons-Shop Waddle Dee. Though small, the area bears all the signs of being well-used; the ground is well-trod, the dummies lovingly battered. There’s a locked armoury—really just a shed—for storing training spears, but Fecto Elfilis seems satisfied with the one Bandana Waddle Dee had given them, taking it with them as they float towards a nearby dummy and immediately attempt to drive the spearhead through its chest.
“You won’t be able to pierce anything with a rubber tip,” Bandana Waddle Dee says mildly as Fecto Elfilis, frowning, makes a second attempt to drive it through the dummy.
“Could have once,” Fecto Elfilis says, sounding disappointed.
From the armoury, Bandana Waddle Dee fetches a second rubber-tipped spear. “You have experience, so it wouldn’t make sense to start from the very beginning,” they say, and to their surprise, Fecto Elfilis appears to actually be listening, floating quietly beside the training dummy rather than continuing with their attempts to stab it. “Once we’ve warmed up a bit, it might be a good idea to spar a little, just to see how you currently do.”
Bandana Waddle Dee would never have invited Fecto Elfilis to spar had Elfilin not promised them repeatedly that they were more than capable of yanking back control if necessary. They’re almost embarrassed by this fact when, approximately fifteen seconds after they begin, Fecto Elfilis is knocked out of the air like a beach volleyball.
“I’m sorry!” Bandana Waddle Dee wails, running to where the Ultimate Life-Form has landed in the dirt several feet away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was trying to be careful—”
Fecto Elfilis, for their part, doesn’t even seem to be particularly angry, instead staring blankly at the night sky above until Bandana Waddle Dee comes close enough to touch and remembers that they really ought not to do that. Only then do they heft themselves upright, expression shifting into a glower.
“This body,” they mutter darkly. “This body—”
“But that was still good!” Bandana Waddle Dee interrupts. “I, I could see that you had the right kind of stance, and a solid grip, and you tried to parry—”
“Tried,” Fecto Elfilis practically spits. “Tried! Shouldn’t have to try!”
But while Bandana Waddle Dee is frantically trying to think of something more they can offer them, something that is the perfect combination of tactful and reassuring, the violet light of Fecto Elfilis’s power returns the training spear to their paws and they float back to approximate Waddle Dee eye-height.
“Again,” they command.
This time, Bandana Waddle Dee tries harder to hold back, doing their best to pretend Fecto Elfilis is some sort of magical soap bubble who can swing a spear but will still pop if poked too hard. They don’t say they’re doing this, of course—they don’t imagine it would be very much appreciated—but there’s nothing wrong with going easy on someone if you’ve already sent them flying once, they think.
It’s funny, seeing how they move compared to Elfilin. There’s a kind of mirthful buoyancy to Elfilin and the way they’re ever floating and bouncing and spinning, but none of that is present in their other half, who instead carries themselves with a sort of rigid dignity. Yet when they’re holding a spear, that rigidity vanishes, giving way to something far more fluid as they respond to their sparring partner’s thrusts.
The trouble is just that they can’t seem to do that for very long at all.
After stopping so Fecto Elfilis can catch their breath, Bandana Waddle Dee, now seated on one of the observer benches installed on the sidelines, asks, “How did you learn how to use a spear?”
“Brother,” is the short reply. They are once more lying on the ground, tiny chest heaving, but at least this time it’s (mostly) by choice.
“He taught you?”
“Fed us warrior. Knowledge encoded. In genetic makeup.”
For a moment, Bandana Waddle Dee has no idea how to respond. When they do, it’s to say, “That’s awful.”
“Pink one consumes,” Fecto Elfilis says almost defensively. “Learns that way.”
“When Kirby copies someone, they don’t die.”
“Maybe didn’t die,” Fecto Elfilis suggests. “Inside somewhere.”
“Would you spit them out if they were?”
“No.”
“That’s awful!”
“Your point,” Fecto Elfilis asks, or prompts, or orders—it’s hard to tell, with the curt, almost proclamatory way they deliver most of their remarks, as though they’re never quite expecting a response.
“Right,” Bandana Waddle Dee says, doing their best to shake it off. Waddle Dees are good at rolling with the punches, they remind themselves; no sense in thinking too hard about something if it’s not something they can do anything about. “Right, sorry. I was asking because…because you seem to have something like muscle memory, it just needs to be reset a little. That means retraining, but… if you never had to do form drills or anything, we’ll probably want to start by going over what those forms are, I think.”
“Show us,” Fecto Elfilis demands. Then: “Asking. Not telling.”
“Still telling,” Bandana Waddle Dee corrects as they hop off the bench. “But I already said that I would, so it’s okay.”
Bandana Waddle Dee is used to training Waddle Dees carefree enough to think of the exercises they’re doing together as simply games. In comparison, Fecto Elfilis takes to their instruction with an intensity they find almost alarming, listening with such a severe expression that they find themselves practically stumbling over such simple tenets as cone spatial theory.
But it’s nice, in a way. The Great King hasn’t always been strong, which is why he worked so hard to get where he is today. Bandana Waddle Dee has always admired that about him. They appreciate people who work hard.
“We’ve been going for a while now,” they say after quite some time of watching Fecto Elfilis going through the motions of the thrust, the block, the take-down, the cut. “Maybe we should take a break?”
Fecto Elfilis doesn’t respond. Instead, at Bandana Waddle Dee’s words, they collapse onto the ground, huffing. But that isn’t really new for them, and Bandana Waddle Dee did suggest it, so they aren’t too worried this time.
Bandana Waddle Dee goes to fetch their satchel from the edge of the grounds, bringing it to where Fecto Elfilis is lying in their little heap. From the satchel they take the boxes they had packed with various small snacks—chicken wraps, sliced peppers, apple wedges and peanut butter—along with a thermos of their homemade apple juice, brewed using a combination of fresh-squeezed apples, a splash of lemon, a spoonful of honey, a scoopful of vanilla protein, a—
Fecto Elfilis makes a face when they try it. It’s not a nice face.
“Bits in it,” they say accusingly.
“That’s protein! It’s for building muscle.”
“Don’t need muscle. Need power.”
“Muscles equal power,” Bandana Waddle Dee says firmly, but Fecto Elfilis looks skeptical.
“Had power before,” they say. “No protein.”
And where did that power come from? Bandana Waddle Dee wants to ask, in that and do you see why that’s a problem? tone they sometimes use with Kirby and the Great King.
But the obvious follow-up would be and where did that power go?
So maybe not that.
“Is power really that important?” they ask instead.
“Yes,” Fecto Elfilis answers sharply, glowering at them from over their cup. “This form. Small. Weak. You’ve seen. If enemies. What. Would we do?”
It’s not the kind of answer Bandana Waddle Dee would have expected from them. Maybe it should have been.
“We would help you,” they try, but Fecto Elfilis cuts them off.
“Get powerful again,” they say. “Then full form. Won’t matter then.”
“But you and Elfilin are together again. I thought that was all you needed for that.”
Fecto Elfilis shakes their head. “Form based. On sense of ‘self.’ Elfilin—small, simple heart. Small, simple form. Won’t change. Unless wants to. Need more power. To do it alone.”
Sense of self, they’d said. Unbidden, Bandana Waddle Dee recalls the monster behind glass that had dissolved the moment the glass was broken; the surging chimeric wall of consumed beasts; the shapeless, bleeding black hole.
But before they can dwell on the question that begs for very long, Fecto Elfilis adds, with audible disgust, “Likes being small. Because of pink one.”
“I’m sure that’s not why,” Bandana Waddle Dee starts, but again, Fecto Elfilis shakes their head.
“Could be more,” they say. “Could be perfect! But no. Wants to, sit on head. Sleep on stomach. Like—like a—nn—nope, nope, you don’t get to—ah?”
Their head whips towards Bandana Waddle Dee, and just like that, they’re Elfilin again, wide-eyed and apparently confused by their sudden presence in the conversation.
“I’m sorry,” Elfilin says. “I didn’t—I didn’t really mean to do that—"
“It’s okay,” Bandana Waddle Dee assures them. And, because Elfilin has begun to look as though their head hurts quite a bit, they add, “Do you want some apple juice?”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” Elfilin says sadly as Bandana Waddle Dee pours them a fresh cup, because it didn’t seem very fair to ask them to finish someone else’s leftovers. “We agreed they’d be out tonight. I should go back.”
“Can you?”
“I think so, it’s just—it feels a little—" And Bandana Waddle Dee can almost see it, the way they’re wriggling their ‘self’ like the Great King fiddling with a machine part that’s resisting snapping into place, but then they sigh and take a sip. If Elfilin dislikes the protein floating in the juice as well, they politely refrain from saying so.
“They’ll come back,” Elfilin says suddenly as they stare down into their cup. “They’re just letting me have a snack first. But I wasn’t supposed to say that. But I don’t care!” This, they say while lifting their head with a little puff of defiance, as though daring anyone to tell them they’re in the wrong. “That’s what they get for saying things they don’t need to!”
“Does that mean you have been watching?” Bandana Waddle Dee asks as Elfilin reaches for an apple slice, curious enough to set aside their worry that such a question might be rude. “I wasn’t really sure. I mean, I thought you were, but…”
“I have been, yeah!” Elfilin says, nodding so vigorously they almost set their entire body bouncing. “It’s kind of like watching fights in the Colosseum—I’m a little ways away, but I can still cheer you on! It’s been so interesting, too. I never knew how important things like mindfulness could be to spear fighting.”
“Did it hurt when they got knocked down earlier?”
“Not really. I knew it happened, but I don’t usually feel things like that, anyway.”
And Bandana Waddle Dee doesn’t know how to answer that.
Silence pools between them.
After a moment, Elfilin asks, “Was that a strange thing to say?”
“No!” Bandana Waddle Dee answers quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. “Just…unexpected, maybe? Because…they do, I think, so…”
“Oh.”
At this, Elfilin grows quiet.
When next they speak, they don’t really sound like either of the people Bandana Waddle Dee knows.
“Elfilin doesn’t know about things like that,” they say, and their tone is vague, gaze distant. “Elfilin doesn’t remember. Bad things, painful things. They don’t know.”
And again, Bandana Waddle Dee doesn’t know how to answer.
“But memories. Have to go somewhere,” they—Elfilin? Fecto Elfilis?—continue. They had been sitting upright, before, but now, they lay back against the grass; not from exhaustion, it seems, but as if to better look up at the night sky. “Can’t be ‘someone’ without them. So. They’re still there, just separate. Good to be separate. Can laugh, and smile, and play, if separate. That’s why Elfilin doesn’t know.”
At this, they turn their head to glance at Bandana Waddle Dee. “That probably doesn’t make any sense, huh?”
“No, it does!” Bandana Waddle Dee insists, despite not having the first clue if they mean it or not. “That’s…that’s just how it works for you two, isn’t it? Everyone has things they’re good at and things they’re not. That’s why so many Waddle Dees have different jobs, even though we’re all in the Waddle Dee Squad! Like—like Weapons-Shop Waddle Dee, and Astronomer Waddle Dee, and—"
“Foolish,” Fecto Elfilis cuts them off, and Elfilin laughs.
“Different jobs,” they say. They stretch out one of their paws, as though reaching for the scattering of stars overhead. “Maybe. Maybe! Elfilis remembers. Elfilin doesn’t. Elfilis gets angry. Elfilin doesn’t. Elfilis fights. Elfilin doesn’t. Easier to be happy that way. Better that way.”
Tentatively, Bandana Waddle Dee asks, “Are you happy?”
“Elfilin is.”
“But you,” they say, a bit more insistently this time, and they don’t even know who you is; it’s just you. “Are you happy?”
They don’t say anything to this. But they do smile, faintly.
Okay. Okay. That’s all right, then.
After a moment, Bandana Waddle Dee says, “If Fecto Elfilis is ready, we can try sparring again.”
“Now,” Fecto Elfilis says immediately. Then, like an afterthought, or like they were told to: “Please.”
Sparring is different, now that they’ve taken the time to review the fundamentals of technique. Again, a simple thrust; again, a simple block. But now, their movements are steadfast and precise, moreso than they had been earlier. They are being careful, now, rather than driving relentlessly forward, and that is what allows their new dance to last as long as it does. It’s only when Bandana Waddle Dee sees their rhythm start to stutter that they declare, “Enough.”
Despite breathing heavily, Fecto Elfilis doesn’t collapse, this time. Instead, they float towards the edge of the training ground and set their spear aside. Upon doing so, they extend a paw, looking contemplative. Their paw begins to gleam, and from it, a needle of light blooms—Antares in miniature, almost precisely the size of the spear lying on the ground.
“Oh,” Bandana Waddle Dee breathes. “Can I see that?”
“Might be dangerous. Solid light—could burn.”
“Really?”
“No.” The mini-Antares floats over, and Bandana Waddle Dee takes it.
Despite how mystical its summoning had made it seem, the mini-Antares is almost strikingly ordinary upon inspection. Its weight is the same as a training spear and the shaft feels indistinguishable from any other metal, its elaborate design seemingly the only thing that sets it apart. But Fecto Elfilis seems pleased, and Bandana Waddle Dee supposes that’s all that really matters.
“Your spear,” Fecto Elfilis says as they take Antares back. “Bring next time.”
“Sure.” That’s only fair.
But then Fecto Elfilis adds, “Once we beat you. Pink one next.”
“Please don’t fight Kirby,” Bandana Waddle Dee says, more out of a sense of obligation to Elfilin than any sort of misconception that Kirby would do anything but accept the challenge cheerfully. They haven’t forgotten maybe we need to get into another fight sometime?
“Have to,” Fecto Elfilis says firmly. “Need to beat them.”
“Nobody beats Kirby.”
“We will.”
“I don’t think Elfilin wants to fight Kirby.”
“Does,” Fecto Elfilis says calmly. “But doesn’t know it.”
“Hmm,” Bandana Waddle Dee hums, now at a loss. “Well, maybe.”
By now, the sky on the horizon has begun to soften—not quite glowing with the blush of dawn, but certainly with the promise of it, fingers of budding daylight starting to curl over the trees on the horizon—and that, as far as Bandana Waddle Dee is concerned, means it’s time to start wrapping up.
They return the training spears to the armoury, making sure it’s securely locked. When they go to rejoin Fecto Elfilis, they find them experimentally summoning and dismissing the newer, smaller Antares on repeat, a look of quiet satisfaction on their face each time it re-manifests. Perhaps that would have alarmed Bandana Waddle Dee before tonight, but, well. Hard to be too worried about their being able to summon a spear they can actually use after having seen Elfilin punch them out of the driver’s seat just because they got embarrassed.
“Ready to go?” they ask, and the mini-Antares vanishes in one final shimmer of light as Fecto Elfilis nods.
The journey back is much the same as the journey there had been, with Fecto Elfilis staying very, very close despite the town square being no less empty than it had been at the start of the night. Idly, Bandana Waddle Dee wonders if Fecto Elfilis will ever be a daytime kind of person. Maybe not. When the night had begun, theirs had been the only movement, and so the world had felt small enough to hold between them. It would be different by daylight, in a world expanding with each new awakening presence.
But that’s okay, they think. It had been curiously refreshing to play at night—to taste the cool air and see how the patterns of the stars overhead were different from the stars they saw on Popstar. They wouldn’t mind doing this more, so long as drowsiness didn’t interfere with their daytime duties.
Once the two of them reach the round house, Fecto Elfilis floats towards the door and stops. They turn, and their expression is one of flat irritation as they say, “Elfilin says. Thank you.”
“Do you say thank you?” Bandana Waddle Dee asks before they can stop themselves, and Fecto Elfilis looks at them much the same way they had looked after drinking the protein earlier.
But then they smile, and Elfilin says, “They do, they’re just being silly. But it’s very nice of you to go along with our silliness.”
They—either Elfilin, or Fecto Elfilis, or both—wave goodnight, and Bandana Waddle Dee waves back. And then they disappear into the round house, leaving Bandana Waddle Dee to make their way back to their own residence, where they can climb into bed and get what little extra sleep they can before morning brings a new day with it.