!serif Your name is Dave Strider. You are, as those perhaps sensibly concerned with alpha timeline shit would say, doomed. Not much more than a week ago, you left the timeline you grew up in, searching for a chance to prevent the events that got two of your friends killed and your timeline firmly labeled as doomed, the wrong way for things to go. Of course, once you arrived, you executed your plan without a hitch. With considerable and dangerously last-minute prodding, you convinced John that attempting to face a tier seven boss entity was actually a really fucking bad idea. You prototyped yourself so that the other Dave wouldn't turn the puppet of your literal nightmares into his aethereal ghost guide, which, as you discovered first-hand, was also not the smartest decision. Naturally, there was some confusion over which Dave was the real Dave, but being from an alternate timeline got that out of the way quickly enough. After all, you were, and are, doomed. Did you, perhaps, give a shit about being not even a second-tier player but rather a fake one, a doomed one, and now, no more than a game construct? No, of course not. It was necessary, and there was never anything you could do to change it. Perhaps it would have been nice if these alternate versions of all your friends were a little less dismissive of your realness, but you knew what you were getting into. You're not from their world. There's no reason for you to hold more significance than a minor game quirk, saving everyone from a timeline they only second-handedly knew would have gone badly. You saved them from a lot of pain, redundant for them to go through all over again. Tacked on with the other assistance you provided through the day, wouldn't you, Dave Strider, agree that was more than enough? Yes, of course. In just the same way, of course you don't give a shit. So said, after all, Dave Strider. At this present moment, you have gracefully absconded from a calm, one-on-one discussion through which you brought up a dead friend nobody asked to hear about, sent frustration all through the air, and lost what might've been the last of your notion of being real. All in all, you figure you'll avoid making a repeat of this. The problem, you understand, is that you came far too close to giving a shit. You shake yourself. You're leaning against the wall, just outside the doorframe. Recomposing yourself, you'd say, but perhaps you're just pretending you aren't actually here. You literally aren't from their world; why not drop the act? You imagine someone approaching. You're a sprite, right? You sort of just will yourself to be invisible with your powers. You are now a ghost. Nobody will see you, you'll stay out of everyone's way. You can stop pretending to be real. You are literally, physically not there. The someone floats on up to you and affectionately rubs their forehead against your face. JASPERSPRITE: Meow meow! JASPERSPRITE: Whats up dave? Oh. Unfortunately, you weren't imagining them. JASPERSPRITE: Helloo? :3 DAVESPRITE: hi jaspers DAVESPRITE: not much DAVESPRITE: sup with you JASPERSPRITE: Oh i just decided to go looking for you! JASPERSPRITE: My magic cat instincts told me you might like some company. JASPERSPRITE: And i found you! :3 DAVESPRITE: yep thats exactly what you did DAVESPRITE: so DAVESPRITE: i guess i would thanks JASPERSPRITE: Purr purr. Jaspersprite floats beside you and presses against your side, just lightly enough to be comfortable without pushing you aside. You pat his back. Even if he can talk now, he's definitely still a cat. From behind the empty doorway, you hear Jade lift herself from the couch and storm off somewhere else. No, wait, you're imagining that—she's just walking away, though via another of the living room's exits, clearly to avoid passing by you. You know you were kind of totally a jerk back there, and you want to make things better, but you have no idea how to approach doing that. You could tell her you're sorry for bringing up a rough topic for her, but that hardly seems adequate, considering you were well aware beforehand she doesn't like talking about her dream self sprite. Even if you do decide to apologize, now probably isn't the time. So you just get to wait for her air to settle as you stay frustrated at yourself, you guess. JASPERSPRITE: Dave! JASPERSPRITE: Lets go look for somewhere more comfy than this silly wall i cant imagine youre having a great time just standing here! :3 DAVESPRITE: yeah i guess im not DAVESPRITE: sounds like a plan DAVESPRITE: lead the way JASPERSPRITE: Ok! Meow. He pulls you down the corridor, thankfully opting for some place other than the living room couch. You've roamed the ship your fair share since setting off on the trip, but you haven't been able to make much sense of the structure the golden halls and corridors theoretically form yet. They all look basically the same to you; it doesn't help that half the rooms are identically empty boxes. JASPERSPRITE: Purrr do you smell that? JASPERSPRITE: Johns nanna is baking some cookies! They must be almost ready! JASPERSPRITE: Theyre always so yummy lets go try a sample. :3 Your sense of smell was never exactly outstanding, and prototyping with a bird probably didn't help that matter, so you hadn't noticed. Now that you pay attention, though... you can't disagree that you're curious. Not that you have anything better to do, anyway. You follow Jaspersprite past a few more samey rooms and turns, just keeping up as he abruptly zooms through a darker frame. There's a sign overhead labeled "kitchen", and as you swoop in yourself, you see the only other indication of the room's use is the cookies. They're stacked everywhere, obscuring virtually every surface, save for the open oven. Nannasprite is just putting what must be her hundredth tray in; she closes it, turns toward the two of you, and smiles. NANNASPRITE: Hello, dears! JASPERSPRITE: Hi nanna! Can we try your tasty tasty cookies? :3 NANNASPRITE: Of course! I did make plenty to share around! Hoo hoo hoo. DAVESPRITE: hi hi DAVESPRITE: thanks NANNASPRITE: Naturally! Dig in! You pick out a cookie from the base of a nearby counter's pile. Like any of the delicacies that John's ecto-mom bakes, it's got a bit of a blue glow to it. Some of the real powdered sugar coating grabs onto your neon fingers, quickly melting; the cookie is firm, though. You chomp into the little ball—and get literally knocked back from how much _spice_ is in it. Your bro never made you any kind of treats, so you don't have the words to describe the sensation, but if you did, you'd say it's like biting into a cookie packed with all the spice a regular family ought to use in a holiday season. You chew, swallow, and regain your footing. Actually, it might make up for all the spice you never got to experience during your entire preteen-hood. DAVESPRITE: nanna god DAVESPRITE: whatd you put in this DAVESPRITE: its so much NANNASPRITE: Hoo hoo hoo! NANNASPRITE: Yes, it packs quite the punch. :B NANNASPRITE: The recipe does call for the same spices, if in lesser quantity, though! NANNASPRITE: An old friend in Germany send me it, you know. They certainly like their treats flavorful! Hoo hoo hoo. DAVESPRITE: no kidding omg Beside you, Jaspersprite devours his third helping in a single bite. You know you're imagining it, but you could swear there's a voice inside you insisting you cannot let yourself be outmatched by, out of all the potential foes, a cat. It's pointless—you simply cannot hope to beat your sister's undead cat in a cookie-off—but you finish the rest of your own cookie in one go. This time, you're prepared for the kick. You decide you quite like the flavor, anyway. NANNASPRITE: So! What brings you two here? NANNASPRITE: I don't doubt my baking is reason enough on its own, but I've a feeling there might be something more! NANNASPRITE: Hoo hoo hoo. JASPERSPRITE: Meow yes! We really like your cookies but yes i thought dave might want to talk to you about something. :3 DAVESPRITE: geez way to put me on the spot DAVESPRITE: why do you two get magic senses like that anyway DAVESPRITE: i know i dont and im literally the knight of time cmon NANNASPRITE: Chalk it up to being grown-ups! :B NANNASPRITE: But yes, I thought perhaps so. What's the matter, dear? You pause for a moment, unsure what to say. Mostly, you don't know what you want to hear. It'd be so much easier to drop it, to grab another cookie and stave off telling anyone for at least another few moments what you've been dealing with, but they're listening to you now. You probably couldn't ask for a better opportunity—you have no idea what Nannasprite will think about any of this, but you certainly can't imagine talking about it to either of your temporally younger friends on the ship. And that's not even to mention the present mess you've thrown at Jade. DAVESPRITE: well DAVESPRITE: im feeling kind of DAVESPRITE: not real NANNASPRITE: Oh? You suddenly realize you have no idea how to word your emotions and troubles with any kind of well-warranted finesse at all. When have you ever talked about them before? Wording's never been your strong suit. Wait, scratch that. Maybe going off on a rap about your life would make it less impossible. Were that not entirely inappropriate right now. DAVESPRITE: uh yeah like DAVESPRITE: ok hold on can i start over NANNASPRITE: Certainly! Feel free to. JASPERSPRITE: Meow! :3 DAVESPRITE: alright thanks DAVESPRITE: i got into this argument with jade DAVESPRITE: i guess i was curious about her thoughts about the sprite she made from her dream self DAVESPRITE: but i dont know what i was expecting and she got really upset DAVESPRITE: probably rightfully DAVESPRITE: and said some stuff that i guess hurt me more than she meant NANNASPRITE: Oh, I see... NANNASPRITE: Those sorts of arguments are very misfortunate, indeed. NANNASPRITE: Would you like to talk about anything she said in particular? JASPERSPRITE: We really like listening to you you know! :3 DAVESPRITE: yo thanks jaspers youre awesome DAVESPRITE: i guess so DAVESPRITE: i think what stung most was DAVESPRITE: she told me she regretted making jadesprite exist and having to see her DAVESPRITE: and she wouldnt have done that if shed known what to expect You sigh, more shakily than you expect to. The other two are watching you intently, not saying anything yet; Jaspersprite pats you with one of his tentacle arms gently. DAVESPRITE: and DAVESPRITE: i guess i felt like DAVESPRITE: since she was really quick to just despise the existence of someone like that DAVESPRITE: and nobodys really wanted to be around me DAVESPRITE: i thought DAVESPRITE: if the timelines didnt make it necessary DAVESPRITE: maybe youd all be better off if i never existed either NANNASPRITE: Oh, Davesprite... Tears? What are those? You're not sure you've ever cried over anything before. _Maybe_ when you read John's letter, after putting on those real-deal Stiller glasses. _Technically_ when those consorts prepared Strider-oignon soup out of you. But crying at yourself? For your own problems? Never. You aren't about to break that streak. You've gotten your words out; you've earned it when you grab the smallest nearby spice-cookie and stuff the whole thing into your mouth. As the flavor stings, you scrunch your eyes, wet from the tears that are actually there now. The cookie didn't help.