“...and I think that when Princess Pretty Pink used the magic of her unicorn horn to heal the villain at the end, that it was a powerful statement on, like, redemption and the ability of just a little bit of kindness going a long, long way! What do you think?”
“Mmm, yeah? Sounds good.”
“Right!? And, oh! Get this, I noticed in the scene where Pretty Princess Pink has the Diamond Diadem of Dreams…”
Umbra watched, a ghost of a smile on his lips, as the two girls talked. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that Sylrel yapped while Friday listened, nodded, and stuffed her face full of stir fry. Either way, they both seemed pretty happy with the arrangement, if those idly swinging tiefling tails were anything to go by.
Just being around those two invigorated him, and he just couldn’t put a finger on why. Still, it staved off the miasma of death in his bones. If only a little.
He blinked, remembered to breathe, and clocked back into his body. “‘Sup?”
Sylrel pressed her fingers together, and her teeth worried into her lip. “Did you like the movie?”
“Yeah,” he smoothly half-lied. Not that he hated– or even disliked– it. There was just something unnerving about the ever-present sentiment that anyone could be redeemed. Made him feel nauseous. “Had fun. Like hearing you talk about it, too.”
Friday gave him a skeptical side-eye, still hunched over her bowl. “You sure about that? It is kinda… Kiddy stuff.”
“Dude. That matters… Why?”
“I mean, she’s got a point,” Sylrel muttered, fork toying with the hunk of cake still on her plate. Damn it. “I guess I should’ve take you to see–”
“Art is art,” he interrupted, before her mood could spiral down even more. “It’s not one-hundred percent my bag, but I’m not gonna knock it. ‘Sides, the kinds of things we like can say a lot about us. And the kind of person who eats up cute, sweet, and happy… Well. Let’s just say I vibe with it.”
Sylrel’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
He grinned. “Really really.”
“So,” Friday cut in, head cocked curiously, “what kind of movies do you like, Umbra? Can you even remember?”
A brick wall popped up in his brain. “Nope,” he answered casually. “Sure can’t.”
“We can always find out!” Sylrel cheerfully said, leaning over the table. “If we’re going to make this a regular thing, we can just watch them all!”
Friday snorted. “Even ones you’re not allowed to see?”
“An adult will be there, so! It’s fine!”
“Think you can handle blood?”
Friday coiled down, mischief written all over her face. Then, in a flash, she leapt up, menacing Sylrel with a play-threat of claws.
That scream quickly turned into a stream of giggles, and a playful swat on the arm. Umbra tapped his cup, and wished– and wished and wished and wished– that these two could stay this way.
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