Work Text:
“Tripwire, I highly recommend not doing this.”
“You’re such a buzzkill, Medkit! I said I’d wish every Phighter a Happy Spawnday. Rifle is no exception, even if she’s um…” Terrifying? They don’t know how to put it. The Broker has made a few too many comments towards them about joining The Church for them to not have an inkling that she’s of the same opinion. Maybe their fault for being too open about believing the Swords aren’t actually deities, despite being… a demi-deity? Do they qualify under that? Whatever. That part isn’t public knowledge, and they have NO clue how The Broker figured it out! Terrifying!
Medkit sighs, like a deflating balloon, flipping over his pistol, gently wiping it with the cloth he carries around. “Well, I tried. Unfortunately, stupidity isn’t something I can heal.” Yeah, yeah. He can call them stupid as much as he wants, but he’s the one who gets all excited to teach them things. Of course, he still acts like he doesn’t really care about them at all, which is fine. They aren’t particularly attached to him, either. Still, they do care for him, which is why they pretend to not even know his name whenever asked. “I do hope you aren’t expecting me to bring you to her.”
…Well, they were. “Nah, I’ll walk around long enough and I assume The Broker will appear out of nowhere, like he always does. Or I call and beg or harass Zuka into contacting him. And I try to convince him to tell me where Rifle is, so I can give her the present I got her.” A small lie. Technically, they sort of already did some information exchange with The Broker, so they could make her a gift. And they bought something for her with Medkit’s advice, so they wouldn’t offend her. Honestly? They feel like they’re appeasing some ancient evil. But she’s literally just a strong inphernal. That’s it.
Once again, Medkit sighs. Sets his pistol in its holster and adjusts his shirt cuffs. “Good luck with that.” Shuts the door in their face. Damn, he’s terrible.
Awkwardly, they turn to leave, trying to make a few guesses. They assume Rifle would be wherever The Church’s base is, celebrating there. The Broker likely is, too, if he’s as close to her as he claims. Which they don’t doubt. So they reroute to Da Shop, hoping they can work out a good deal with Zuka to convince him to contact The Broker.
Along the way, a payphone rings. Those… aren’t supposed to do that. Tripwire knows this for certain, since Crossroads is such a big place for crime, payphones have been unable to receive calls, only make them. So they have a good guess on who did that. “Hello?” They pick up the phone, glancing about awkwardly. They haven’t really used a payphone in years.
“I’m looking for an inphernal called Tripwire. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are, wouldya?” Yeah, that’s The Broker, alright. Sometimes, the way he says their name feels suspicious. But they believe it when he says the price is too high, and they don’t really want to know.
“That’s me. Do you want something, or did you know I was looking for you?”
“A bit of both! Who says I don’t want to chit-chat with a good friend?” He laughs, because they both know that they aren’t friends. “Tripwire, Tripwire. You don’t know where Rifle is, you have gifts for her birthday. I know where she is, and I know how you can get there fast. But! I want you to do me a little favor~”
They sigh, in place of a groan. “You’re not asking the same thing as last time, right?”
He makes some sort of… puppy noise of offense. But, like, fifteen times more dramatic and absurd. “No! There’s a timeframe between those asks, you know. Anyway! I want you to talk to Zukes for me. Find a day I can come over, and I want you to get Rocket out of the house. For, ah… about the whole day, and he doesn’t come back until halfway through the next!”
…They don’t want to know why he needs that much time. They’re still a little nervous about whatever price Zuka paid him for their super-fast eye exam with that decently terrifying Church eye doctor. “Uh, so, how do you expect me to do that?” But they have a few ideas already. Rocket will come over and hang out at their apartment without an issue if he isn’t made aware of The Broker coming over to Da Shop, but a sleepover? He gets nervous about those. It’s not like… actually, maaaaybe Venomshank will let Sword sleep over, if they don’t mention Rocket being there. And then Rocket will sleepover.
“You’re already figuring it out, aren’t you?” Creepy how much he knows. “So! You got this. Talk to Zuka, he’ll have the information you want. I can trust you to keep your word, as long as you make that first effort. Bye-bye~!” And he hangs up.
“...That was weird,” they mutter, putting the phone back and melting back into the crowd. The way he said ‘trust’? Weird as hell. But, still, he isn’t wrong. Once they start, they do manage to keep to their word. And they want to get these gifts delivered. So they go back to walking to Da Shop, fishing out their phone to start writing down their plans.
When they make it there, Zuka is using his red rotary phone. So they wait to approach the counter, looking through the Phighter merch section, getting a little weirded out whenever they stumble upon something of them. Aww, that’s a cute plushie! They have no clue who the Phighter is, though. So not someone super big, hopefully another promising newbie that they’ll see in their matches soon. If they already have a merch deal with Da Shop, it’s pretty likely, right?
“Tripwire,” Zuka calls out, pulling off a sheet of paper from his notebook. “I heard about what you’re doing.” Oh, no. Not the caretaker’s pause of disapproval! It’s, like, probably the only thing that works on Rocket, so it’s perfected. Works on them, and Zuka isn’t… yeah, okay, he’s kind of a caretaker-figure to them. “I can do Wednesday. We’re closed that day.”
Tripwire has to force themself not to cheer. Instead, they nod rapidly, getting a little dizzy. “Thank you, Zuka! I’ll talk to Rocket about it—”
“Talk to me about what?”
Crap. They aren’t prepared yet. “Uh, I wanted you to come hang out with me. Wednesday. Like, all day. And… a sleepover. I know you don’t like them, but I’m going to get Sword over for it, too… um, Venomshank won’t know you’re there, obviously.”
Rocket freezes up. Looks timidly between them and Zuka. Like a scared animal that knows something is up. “...I guess? Are there any rules this time?”
“Nope. You’re free. Uh, we can’t get too loud, or leave any sort of marks on Sword, we have to make sure he doesn’t get too sugared up or eat anything too unusual for him before going home.” It feels like being a teenager. Not that Tripwire remembers any of that; they’re going off of what they’ve read in books.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Tripwire nods, going up to the counter and grabbing the paper from Zuka. Wow. Those are insanely vague and hyperspecific instructions! “I have places to be, though. Sorry, Rocket, Zuka. No time to talk. Busy day today!” Before either of them can say anything, Tripwire darts out of the shop. Tight timeframe to make.
Eventually, they make it. After some effort and being a little grossed out by the places they have to go through. “What in all the Inpherno are we doin’ here, Broker? I dressed up all fancy for my spawnday, and ya want me in this slum? For what! A ‘surprise’? Tch, got enougha those today…”
“Well, see, it’s a special surprise! And I… sort of needed a quick place that wouldn’t be hard for you or them to reach…?” Wow, The Broker sounds a little docile around Rifle. And they can tell it’s her, with that accent. And the mention of it being her spawnday.
“‘Them’? Broker, what didya do.” She rounds the corner, stopping, and just… staring at them.
Broker gets to about the middle of the two, clasps his hands together and grins. “Oh, all I did was bring a good-natured inphernal! To celebrate your spawnday! They worked so hard on getting you gifts, I couldn’t help but arrange this!” He bows, then takes a few steps back. She looks a bit confused still. “...Isn’t that nice, Rifle?”
That’s enough to make her figure some things out, or something. “Yeah, I suppose it is…say, ain’tcha that one ‘phernal scurrying ‘round and sucking up to all the big Phighters?”
“Um… maybe…? I don’t know. I try to be nice to everyone, I don’t think I’m biased towards… ‘big Phighters’. Who even counts for that? The popular ones change all the time.” Awkwardly, they shift to mess with the wire around their horns, trying to ignore the odd interest The Broker has in the action. “Um, I did come here to wish you a Happy Spawnday, aaand give you the presents I got. Er, well, I made one, and the other was bought.”
It’s pretty stiff on both sides of this interaction, honestly. “Well, thanks, kid. You ain’t the inphernal I was talkin’ ‘bout, I was messin’ with ya.”
Stumbling through the worst interaction they’ve had in a while, Tripwire reaches into their bag, pulling out the boxes. They… had to take everything else out of their bag for this, which took a while. They’re dreading having to go through it all and decide what actually needs to go back in. “Good to know I don’t have that type of reputation, at least. Um, here?” Awkwardly, they step closer, then hesitate, unsure if they’re supposed to approach her. The Broker winces, but quickly tries to cover it up with his usual smile. Rifle just crosses her arms, so she’s waiting for them to approach, they assume. They continue walking, stopping a few steps away, and anxiously hold out the boxes.
She takes the top one, popping the lid off. “Aw, shoot, kid! I can always use more sharpen’ stones.” She runs a finger over it, and nods lightly in approval. “Right grit and everythin’... now, I know that ya know Medkit, so am I right in assumin’ he helped ya with this?”
Wow, she’s being a lot nicer now. Gifts really do butter everyone up. “...Yeah. I wanted to make sure that you liked the gift, and that was the easiest way to do that.”
With another nod, she crams the box under her arm, taking the other one from them. As soon as she pops it open, she shoots a glare towards The Broker, who immediately raises his hands placatingly. “There’s only one ‘phernal who knows ‘bout this, and is confident enough to share it.”
Okay, so that proves that it isn’t just a Lost Temple inphernals all love oziphrages! stereotype. Well, vultures, but they think oziphrages sound cuter. And like she’s mad…? So did The Broker scam them?
“I got a good deal out of it! When someone seeks you out, almost in tears, begging and pleading and offering anything, just to be able to make someone a spawnday gift… haha, you’d have to be stupid to not take it!” Way too joyful, but they know damn well that they didn’t beg or cry. So he’s playing it up for… some reason.
That doesn’t stop her from staring at him, though. “And what is worth that?” Looking slightly uneasy, she glances back at them. At their horns, then their face. “...Doesn’t look like ya got ‘em to join The Church.”
“Yeah, he took, like, a whole layer of my skin.”
The Broker winces, then pulls the world’s most sheepish expression. “Ah… yeah, I did do that. But! They agreed! And didn’t feel a thing! So! It’s a fair deal!”
Rifle just… stares at him. Looking disgruntled. Not like it’s unexpected as something he’d want, but that she’d rather him not take that as a deal about her interest in oziphrages. “Ya made this, kid?” Changing the subject, looking at Tripwire again. She does not want to even talk about the skin-exchange, then.
“Um, yeah. I did.” Honestly, why does he even want it? Collection purposes? Not much stuff can be done with it, since it’s… more delicate than normal skin. He mentioned that before they fell asleep. Inphernal skin tends to be tough, and theirs is, but also delicate. Mostly from the albinism, though.
With a small sigh, she puts the lid back on the box. “Well, thanks. Ya got skill, kid.” She’s silent for a while, then continues. “And an eye for detail. Have you considered joinin’ The Church? We could use that.”
They quickly shake their head. “No, I’m good. Thank you. I wouldn’t be able to handle having only one eye. It’d be too unbalanced, and I already have terrible eyesight.”
She clicks her tongue. “Figures. Worth a try, though!” She shifts that box under her arm as well, then checks her watch. “Nice of ya to do that, but I gotta get back to the party. Maybe I’ll keep an eye out for yer matches from now on. Who knows? Maybe one day, yer gonna be on my level, and we’ll be opponents! ‘Course, I’ll win, but maybe ya can put up a good fight.”
“Ahah, maybe… I think I could get you a few times in the process, at least.”
“Ooh, fightin’ words! Sounds like ya have watched a few of my matches? I am quite the sight to behold…”
Well, sounds like she’s relatively easy to flatter? “Mhm! I watch a lot of matches you’re in. Definitely entertaining, at the least. All your moves are… mm, I dunno how to put it besides ‘fashionable’. Feels more like you’re on a runway than some high-speed action.” Technically, she usually isn’t who they’re specifically watching, but she shows up pretty frequently either way.
Rifle grins at that, all sharp-toothed and pleased. “Ain’t you sweet! If ya see me ‘tween matches, come say hi, ya hear?” But then she sighs, so dramatically. Definitely played up. “We do hafta go now. If I leave the party for too long, I don’t know what those riled up ‘phernals will do! Have a great day now, ya hear?” She turns and starts strutting off, clearing expecting The Broker to immediately follow.
Instead, he leans in conspiratorily, and whispers, “ya hear?” and darts off with a wink, acting like he’s been following the whole time. WHAT is his problem?
Huh. Flattery really does get them everywhere. And now they need to flex on Medkit that this went great. They end up shooting him a text about how their “natural charm” has gotten them into Rifle’s good graces. As expected, all they get is the thumbs down emoji. Displeased. Which delights them.
The rest of their day is pretty average. Going to sleep is about as difficult as it usually is, but they feel a little braver now.
Scythe, however, finds it a little harder to sleep that night.
It was a bit hard to focus on her spawnday party, even with how excited everyone got, after… whatever that was. Tripwire. She knows of them; of course she does, with how The Broker talks of them sometimes. Positive, but mostly because they make it easier for him to talk with that Zuka he adores so much. Why he’s so attached to that inphernal, despite the feeling not being mutual? She’s clueless.
But…
She holds the oziphrage plush, almost hoping the wires would cut into her skin. She’s left all that in the past, and this is digging it up. Some things are better left buried. While she’d love to think of this as her oziphrage, and think of it as that only… she can’t help but think of the Wranglers. It’s bitter. Not in the way that she likes, but almost like the air after The Scorch, the way her mouth tasted when…
“Ain’t even tripwire, kid…” she mutters, tossing the plush to the side. It’s really a testament to skills she wishes she had. Sewing, crocheting, weaving… she used to know some inphernals who have those skills. Do they still get together and gossip and make jokes while making their own little crafts? She remembers listening in, she remembers it so fondly and softly, and being surprised when she was beckoned to join, and not expected to pick up any needles. She remembers being even more surprised when…
She sits up, burying her head in her hands. It isn’t the time for all that. She doesn’t need to focus on the past. Even if she misses it, in that vague sense. She’s happy with the family. She enjoys what she does…
Maybe?
But she does know for certain that she won’t leave. Not until she can get her vengeance. And the family is not kind to those who leave. She’s the one who would know best.
Briefly, she glances at the red rotary phone on her dresser. Entertaining the idea of calling The Broker. He gets her out of this… bad mood, with his intense talk of praises for The Church. While it doesn’t make her feel any more devoted, it does make her more content with what she has. And, well, she has a few questions.
It rings.
“Fuck,” she ends up muttering, even as she gets out of bed, stumbling a little as her foot catches on the blanket, which gets another curse from her. “Right now?” Either the timing is just a coincidence, or he has something to talk about, too. Been thinking. Like she has. It’d be funny, really, if the two need the reassurance of the other at the same time. Putting a new meaning to mentally syncing up.
When she picks up the phone, he doesn’t immediately speak. With the smallest smirk of amusement, she gives him what he wants. “Y’ello?” It’s a little absurd, how much he—and a few other Church members—find joy in it. But it’s worth it to hear that stupid giggle. She knows he’s twirling the cord of the phone. Whenever he’s making a for pleasure call, he does it. He just has a weird insistence on using that specific phone, instead of a normal one, even for normal calls.
“Hiiii, Scythe~” He coos out, and the small rustling makes it clear he’s also laying in bed, kicking his feet. Mm, maybe one day she’ll move the phone closer to her bed. Instead, she has a stool set up, mostly for doing her makeup. It serves this purpose as well. “You aren’t really mad at me for telling them, right?”
…Them? Weird way to refer to Tripwire. Hm, maybe the kid really did leave a good impression on her, if she can remember their name this easily. “Naw, ya just wanted the present to be good.” She lets that sink in, before letting her real grievance be known. “But ya didn’t need their skin, didya.”
His small, nervous giggle is expected. He doesn’t like making her upset. If this was… some time ago, she can’t remember how long the two have been close at this point, maybe she’d chalk it up to his people-pleasing. But she knows now that he’s more… nervous about messing this up. He doesn’t get the chance to have many actual friends, especially not ones willing to defend him like she is. Not ones that can handle how intense he is, or actually put their trust in him. “Welllll, I wanted it! Yeah, sure, I never really need most things I get, but I want those things. Isn’t that most inphernals?” Not the answer she wants, and he knows it. “...You and I both know they aren’t Tripwire.”
Changing the subject doesn’t really help his case. But, if he doesn’t want to really explain it, she knows she won’t get the real answer no matter what. She sighs, but gives in. “Fine. I’m worn slap out! Whatever you’re doin’ with it, I’m not involved. I won’t ask no more. I reckoned they weren’t Tripwire, but now I know it. I was thinkin’ ‘bout it, before ya called. Thought about lookin’ into it, but I reckon that dog won’t hunt.”
“Ooh, really, now? My, my, how curious! Scythe, getting all up in some random inphernal’s business? How unexpected.”
“Well, now, that’s just the pot callin’ the kettle black, ain’t it.” She doesn’t do that too often… right? Well, maybe she’s been a bit intense about trying to get new recruits for The Church, recently. But the pressure goes up near her spawnday, since more eyes are on her. Nice, kind eyes, except for some. Father Overseer… expects continued good performance, even when festivities occur. And she knew she had been slacking.
The Broker laughs, the same usual menace sound he tends to make. Almost like a goblin from a fantasy story. “Right, right. Sharp-tongued, even when tired! Who woulda guessed.” Him, since he’s heard it hundreds of times before. “Anyways~ yeah, mhm. They aren’t Tripwire! I dooo have some ideas—or maybe I even know—what they really are. Do you wanna know, really, Scythe?”
“I reckon you want to tell me.”
He squeals, and Scythe knows she’s right. “Bingo! I do! But, first… I gotta beat everyone! Like I did this morning! Happy Spawnday, Scythe! There, I’m the first and last to do it!” So excited, so late at night, for nothing. It doesn’t really mean a thing, she has plenty more spawndays (or so she hopes, at least) to go. More days for him to do this.
“Hah, as silly as all get out, aren’t ya?” She feels like being a little mean… “I been runnin’ all over Hell’s half acre ‘cause of ya, I might could just leave ya hangin’ for the night! If I had my druthers, I’d be sleepin’ like a log right about now! Some ‘real identity’ of some random ‘phernal? That’s a hill of beans to me! Ya ain’t got the sense given to a goose, Broker!”
There’s a bit of silence, enough to creep in a small pang of regret, before he gasps into a small laugh. “Oh! You’re messing with me! You don’t say all that at once when you’re serious!” Yeah, she really doesn’t slang THAT hard. But, really, he is as silly as all get out. And maybe it’s what comes to mind, before any more ‘normal’ phrases do. She’d rather sound a little silly than hesitate over her words and sound less confident than she is! Not like she gets embarrassed over the laughter or fascination now, it’s more of a compliment!
“Yeah I am!” A small laugh escapes her, against her dignity. Not that laughing is inherently against her dignity, but that it is right now. “Now, I’ll tell ya what. I’ll hear all ‘bout this ‘real identity’ nonsense, yet I reckon it’s a plumb waste of time!”
Noise of glee. “Oh, of course you will, Scythe! You’d never ever leave me hanging!”
Gossip? She finds it pointless, yet it may just be her biggest guilty pleasure. While Scythe knows what The Broker says is true, that doesn’t stop her from indulging like it is just gossip. It solidifies a few ideas she has, though. Suburbians are too big for their britches, and mad as all get out. Buncha raving lunatics, too. No wonder there’s so few Suburbian Church members; they’re all obsessed with those false deities. That… Ghostwalker one, mostly, as she’s hearing from this gossip session.
It does upset her, really, to know that Ghostwalker would show up and watch what happened. These ‘deities’ really don’t care. They never have, never will. Not about inphernals, or the pains they cause them. In a way, she’s back to thinking about The Scorch. How many other regions have had similar events, and nobody knows? Suburbia is a smaller region, yes, but this event is… she doesn’t really want to think about it. The Scorch had victims, nobody chose it. Those in Suburbia chose what happened, everyone there did what they felt was what they wanted to do. The victims were what resulted from it. But do any of these victims remember? They suffer from it, without knowing what it is? She hasn’t heard a lick of this, so she can only assume every inphernal forgot, or refuses to speak on it. The worst part is how even The Broker doesn’t know all of it. She can tell it frustrates him, since it has to have been something that interests him. For him to look into it like this? It must be a little personal. She won’t pry. It may not be personal for him in the direct sense, but perhaps some inphernal tugged on his heartstrings and he got a little emotionally invested.
Yet it’s not exactly sympathy that she has about Suburbia’s… event. Just… frustration? Rage? Anger at the injustice? It’s a little hollow. She wants to blame Ghostwalker, it’d be the simplest option. He could easily have stopped it. But she knows, really, that these lunatics were using him as an excuse. Even if he did step in, would they really have stopped? In a way, it reminds her of The Church and Father Overseer. She can’t place it, but it makes her uneasy. Perhaps that’s why her feelings are hollow. It would be easier if she was a bit dumber. She heard that enough growing up, yet now she’s the only one saying it to herself. Because it really would be easier to be able to listen without questioning it. To be able to be convinced. Instead, she’s always doubting.
Oh, not that she’s comparing Father Overseer to Ghostwalker. No, he’s more… the lunatics. In this metaphor, there has to be a Ghostwalker, but she doesn’t know who. She knows there is one. Maybe in the past, or the future, or maybe now. The Church itself isn’t terrible. Extremist group or not, they’re a family. Just… bound under someone she’s not too certain on. She’s not dumb, so she keeps that to herself. If Broker knows, he doesn’t say anything. Would be odd, considering his… intense devotion. He’s a bit like the lunatics, too. Would she be his Ghostwalker? No, she almost believes he’s always been this far gone, and she can’t do anything to stop that. Maybe she could redirect it, but only if she needs to. The Father may not be so bad, and maybe she just finds it too hard to trust after everything.
“They’re all mad, I’ll tell ya what!” Scythe exclaims, after it all, like she isn’t reconsidering more of her surroundings. “Since when does that false deity care? None of ‘em do, that we all know, but that one? Bless their hearts, their porch lights may be on, but nobody’s home!” Well, she’s pretty sure they don’t turn their porch lights on, considering the… animals that get hostile towards light sources. Who’d want to live in a place like that, anyway? Everything there is out to kill you.
Oh, right. Suburbia’s obsessed with death.
“Absolutely.” Hey, now, his heart doesn't seem in it anymore. Where’s the enthusiasm? “Say, Scythe? Hypothetically, if you wanted to tell someone about something terrible… and wanted to be a little gentle about it for the first time in your life…”
Ah. Well, he wants to tell this little friend of his, she assumes. “I am NOT the ‘phernal to ask, Broker.”
The Broker sighs, and she hears him shift in his bed. “Well, you really are, Scythe! You’re The Church’s big sister for a reason!”
“‘Cause I don’t sugarcoat it! I say it as it is. Can’t never could, and all y’all be too negative!”
No, she sees it now. “...Well, I’ll be. Ya might be right for once.” He’s usually right, but Scythe isn’t going to admit that. He’s a bit too high and mighty already. “Give ‘em some time, at least. How often do y’all talk?”
“...When they need help.”
“Broker. Ya gotta reach out. When they don’t need help, or maybe after. Leave ‘em a little note. Can that be payment for some help?”
He whines, like it’s going to kill him to not be too greedy with it. “I… maybe? But depending on what they ask…”
“For ‘pherno’s sake, Broker, I just said ya gotta reach out when they DON’T need help! Quit bein’ ugly, and hush your mouth! Listen to me, this ain’t my first rodeo with this typa subtly. If ya don’t want to phrase it like that, that’s fine… I’ll tell ya what, say it like they’re doin’ you a favor.” Feels a little weird for her to say ‘you’. But emphasizing the word is necessary here, since he lacks a few critical thinking skills. “Knowin’ is gonna be their reward, alright? Ya hear me?” Once she gets confirmation, the world’s most miserable and hesitant yes, she continues. “Somethin’ small, so they don’t get all too tired before you tell ‘em. But ya don’t ask for help or favors, so it might just be ‘nuff to make ‘em all excited for the reward. Don’t bring it back to Zuka, ya ask all too mighty much for payment ‘bout him. Plus, if yer tellin’ who I think yer telling, they seem too scared to say boo to a goose! That’ll tire ‘em out, talkin’ to others.”
Honestly, it’s all just flowing out of her at this point. Not a single thought on it as she prattles on. He does engage her, ask questions, all that, so maybe she loses track of time.
Eventually, she yawns, and looks at her clock… “Well, I’ll be! We’ve been at this from can to can’t! Let me let you go now, and we can be at this from dawn ‘til dusk tomorrow! I ain’t busy, but I still need my beauty sleep!”
A master at ending conversations, Broker does immediately remember that Scythe will continue with her goodbyes for another hour if unchecked. “Yep! Nighty-nighty, Scythe, don’t let the vultures bite!” Ha, because she has one. Is he still not over being bit? It was one time, and she told him not to be nervous. Coulda been worse, and he ain’t cut out to be a wrangler, that’s for sure.
“Now, listen here you—” she cuts herself off with a huff. “Well, I never! I’ll be startin’ that call off with a stern talkin’ to, that’s for sure!” She sets the rudely hung up phone back in its place, then stands up with a satisfying stretch. Lots of bones popping, and she feels the slight burn in her muscles. Still, the moment she drops into her bed, she feels restless again.
Tonight, Scythe sleeps huddled up to her oziphrage, like she used to. Instead of the bitter feeling she’s accustomed to, all she can think about is how nice it is. To hold someone, even if it is a vulture.
…Maybe she can pay that kid to make her a larger plush. Or she should get one of those… body pillows…? Whatever those other Church members talk about being so comfortable to sleep cuddling. She’s pretty sure she’s heard the names of some Phighters tossed around in those conversations, but she ain’t one to judge. Well, she is, but she’s been in a similar situation before. So maybe not. Well, she was practically in a relationship while like that, which is better than what they’re doing. So. Maybe she can judge? Either way, she isn’t right now. And she’s too damn tired to care. Too big of a party (though she loved it), too long of a conversation (she cares for The Broker, but SURELY he could look up how to go about this, right?).
She barely registers the wing that covers her, the quiet chirp. It’s been a long while since she’s heard any sound from her vulture, honestly. Oziphrages aren’t too vocal, hers is no exception. Well, except for while talking about food. All oziphrages know how to vocalize then. A chirp isn’t a sound she’s heard before, but she gets a decent clue of the meaning when the head comes resting next to her. The idea of being the baby between the two is ridiculous. She’s pretty damn old for an inphernal. Not the oldest out there, but since most die young… she’s real old! She’ll still be pissed off if someone calls her old, obviously, but she knows it. She still looks young! Definitely helps that she paints her horns, but… she’s youthful! Spry! Fit as a fiddle!
…And really tired. Scythe fully leans against her oziphrage, tugging on her tank top to fix it, and properly closes her eyes.