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He stared down at the remains of paper and trinkets that his brother had sent him in a box. Once again his brother had snuck into his room and ruined things that weren't his to begin with. All because ****** had done something the older brother didn't approve of, because he was jealous.

This time he wouldn't let his brother get away with it.

[Vengeful Memory]

Bright red hair, a smattering of scars and freckles, and an attitude big enough to crush the unsuspecting. He is loud, he is rude, and he is the first thing she sees after waking up from what feels like forever.

Strain, dislike, begrudging acceptance, budding respect, and then, finally, friendship.

Pie. Pie was everywhere. On everyone. An no one cared.

They were all laughing as the threw filling at each other, smashed into faces or into hair, or tackled one another.

It was happy, she was happy. She had a new family.

[Death]

He'd made his choice.

He slipped his hand into Destruction's, guided towards the last vestiges of red by an unseen force that chilled him to the bone and squeezed him entirely too hard. But it was familiar, and it promised an end, to destroy all who opposed them, to crush them to nothingness. Loffie hoped he would be crushed along with them.

Fitting to his misery, the foliage that had wrapped him so sweetly disappeared, replaced by the twisted iron and concrete of Ruin. He hated this place almost as much as the Shrine, but its fitting, he deserves it. The crown sat there, waiting red and resplendent on it's crumbling throne. Loffie stepped like a lost child attracted to a shop window, led by some stranger into a situation entirely out of his control.

But for the crown, for passage, he needed to give up his heart. Dark fingers reached for his chest, rubbing gently over the place where his heart laid beating.

He'd already lost it once.

He was finally at the point of no return but losing it again scared him, and he was apprehensive. He wanted to be rid of the foul feeling organ; he wanted to feel nothing, to be nothing. But he remembered the pain of scissors tearing into his flesh, cutting and snipping until clawed hands had pulled it free. It had been wretched agony and though Loffie was dedicated to his task, he hesitated.

His hesitation was only brief.



Raising his heart in his hand, Loffie held it towards the crown and Destruction, the organ pulsing soft and gooey in his grasp. It was strange to see it like that, outside of him. He stared at it with glassy eyes, his very core beginning to fall apart as he stepped forward to make his sacrifice.

"You have made the correct choice. This is the end for you, but the beginning for me. Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

There were memories, but they meant nothing because in almost all of them he was alone, alone and miserable. In every one there was nothing of significance because he hated them all. He hated everything. He hated everything except for that single voice, cool and familiar, that voice that whispered gently in his ear, "I love you, ***."

He was reeling, fading away but Loffie was suddenly furious. He glared at his heart, his expression livid. How dare it? How dare it promise him hope, how dare it promise him that there was someone out there that cared, someone out there that mattered him, how dare it promise it all when he lay on the ground heartless and dying. He growled, cursing his own heart. It was lying, there was no one! Absolutely no one!

But as his eyes closed, heavy and unable to stay open even to maintain their glare, he knew his heart wasn’t lying. He was fading away but someone loved him, someone was enveloping him into their arms, was holding him as he died.

But it was too late.

He was gone.

There was no hope.

No one would ever love them like he did.

She knew. She knew - not who she was, but who she wasn't. She wasn't this form left to her. She was something shaped by what the Goddesses had torn away. And now she was being asked to lose it all again.

No. No. It wasn't fair. She stood trembling before the Goddesses, before the red moon. Her hand clenched tightly over her chest. Her heart was still blue-kindled... but the Longing now was to survive.

... She had no choice.

So she turned her back on the Goddess she'd know, the one she'd served, and faced Creation - she'd known enough Destruction, and she had no Pride left. Creation was the only choice, and the only thing that seemed to her to have any hope in it. Her finger spasmed against her Heart.

"Just... just... take it..."

She felt herself splintering, the memories fading, everything fading. Maybe it was better this way. Better unmade than half-made. Better void than empty.

Better-

She was young, and the little girl standing beside her was looking up at her like she was the entire world. Astrid had always looked at her like that when they were younger, like she could do no wrong, and *** had promised to always be there, to always protect her.

Belladonna let out a laugh and grabbed the ghoul close for another hug.
"Don't you dare apologize! That is how you feel and you should not ever be sorry for your feelings!" After a squeeze **** was released and the witch beamed at her friend. "I am sorry Shibey was being so rude to you, but I am much happier to hear that you are happy." Once more she patted the ghoul's head and lightly tousled the ends of ***** hair.

"Besides all this excitement, what else have you been up to?"

**** tried not to look as stunned as she felt at Belladonna's words. "T-thank you!" she stammered. "Thank you, um, very much! I... I'm working on it, I am... I feel like a new ghoul, really. Except I don't really know who I am anymore, but... um, that's... okay? It's an adventure, right?"

"Hello, ****, Chaya." Sura greeted, her tone as calm and level as it always was, carefully settling into a seat and curling her tail up into her lap to keep it from swinging around and possibly dislodging another student from their own seat. Unlike Chaya, Sura was not mannered in the way of Lunch dates. She had, however, grabbed a tray of something very suspicious looking.

**** couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief at the sight of her friends - they'd come! So they really were friends after all, surely! "Hi Chaya! Hi Sur- Sura!" she gasped, staring for a moment before remembering staring was rude.

"What happened, Sura??" she asked, apparently addressing Chaya's juice box instead. STARING WAS RUDE.

"Sura, your shoulder got hurt!" Chaya exclaimed, and promptly stood up on the chair to get tall enough to get a better look at the raw red scratches around the armor. "Did you fight somebody? If you fought somebody did you win?"