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[attr="class","bisc"]Having a 13-year-old fret over you—like you were some invalid—was super embarrassing. But trying to get Nilla to change her ways was like trying to divert a river with cardboard. She was headstrong to the max. This is why, when he heard that they could explore Eternatus’s stomach, he reached out first. Knowing the ranger wannabe, it wouldn’t take her long to go back to the deep sea hellscape.

The journey itself went pretty well. He did spend a bit too long flipping backflips in zero-g, but a cuff from Jangle put an end to that. But they eventually reached the pulsing heart at the place’s center. Aside from a few distant Nihelego and a couple of Veluza, it’d been uneventful. Vanilla piped up next to him, drawing honey eyes away from a weird plant-thing.

Biscotti turned to his little sister. The compliment about his strength made him tilt his head away. His cheeks flared an embarrassed red. “It was dangerous when you came down here too. We’ll be cool.” Even if that assurance hadn’t helped with Sammy? Stevie? Gods, why was her name so hard to remember? His memory wasn’t usually that bad—they’d been married for Arceus’s sake! “Besides, I hate this thing.” The middle brother typically erred pacifist. He rarely experienced anger, but he wanted Eternatus to suffer.

But, first, he had to deal with this rock. When he volunteered, he was kind of disappointed she didn’t refuse.

“I’ve got this,” Biscotti reassured her as he reached for the conduit. He tried to smile. “I’ve got this.” It didn’t sound any more convincing the second time. With a deep breath, he The paranoia and anxiety washed over him in waves. They weren’t unfamiliar emotions. Jangle gently gripped his shoulder, grounding him to the here and now. As hallucinations danced in front of his eyes, he screwed them tightly shut. His body began to shiver. He leaned into his wrestler cat for warmth. “I’ve—I've g-hot this.” He repeated for the third time, aiming to reassure his nosy nelly of a sister.

Notes

Vanilla Kingsley

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette—shivering—turned to her with a grin. “Careful? I’m—” He stopped as he struggled with what to say. He was often the opposite of careful.

Images of them dead flashed before him. Their bodies were obliterated by the pulsing light that permeated this place. Veluza and Sharpedo going first for one of Nilla’s stunning eyes. He saw it extended like the string of a party popper before squelch, he faced an empty socket. Get out! Get out The pulsating thing seemed to order. Biscotti shook his head, cold sweat dripping down his face. “--you’re one to talk, Nilla.”


A few words about Dad, however, were far worse than anything this monster could conjure. “Just keep an eye on me then.” And, younger or not, he knew that she would. Sure, the Kingsley home often felt like a warzone, but it ended every night in a treaty.

Biscotti’s memories of that place might be fading, but the feelings stayed. He remembered the anguish he felt as Stella laughed for the last time, even if he couldn’t quite recall the exact sound. And, they’d only been able to stop those things—or delay them—by turning the monster’s powers against it. But right now they were unarmed. Tonight wouldn’t be the first time he woke up in terror—the hallucinated red and purple lights flashing off their windows.

He’d take this garbage, so they’d go into a potential battle armed.

Notes
Keep mining

Vanilla Kingsley

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]Just mentioning the Galarian dreamscape made the brunette stiffen. “Look, Nilla.” His voice shifted for a moment. He sounded older and tired. “--that was 20 years. We went through a lot.” And, apparently, she’d adopted better to losing it than he had. But kids did have adaptable brains. “I had a wife, and now I don’t remember how to talk to girls. It sucks.” To go from being a king to just another nobody—no matter how kingly he’d been--was a big adjustment.

Though he was the one caught in the maelstrom, the crystal started spitting out images from Vanilla’s past. His older siblings to be precise. The salty ones. “Uh—-did this happen?” Biscotti’s voice rose to be heard above the grumbling of the assholes. “I’ve never seen them this bad.” With a grunt, he staggered away from the stone. As the blue-haired girl hit her knees, he bent down to untie a shoe.

Trying his best to channel his mother, he tossed one of them at the phantoms. He shouted some familiar family phrases as he did so. His sock came down to land on the pulsing flesh beneath him—yuck. “Quit being dicks.” He straightened. “I’d like to see you two down here.” Sure, Vanilla couldn’t bake. She didn’t care enough about perfection for that. But she had courage in spades. And, he’d die defending that.

But, hopefully, it wouldn’t come down to that.

Notes
Traumatic Memory

Vanilla Kingsley

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]“You could have told us.” His lips pressed together as he thought about her muteness. Was this shit what caused it? Heck, he doubted Grappa and friends even remembered saying it. “I’m—” The shaking drowned out his voice. But, this time, he didn’t let himself get drowned out. What he had to say was important. “If I ever hurt your feelings, I’m sorry.”

Apparently, the bad at baking thing hadn’t been funny to her.

It seemed the shoe was enough to pause the phantom memories. Sure, a pair of sandals would have been better, but he hated those things. He was always scared he’d break some universal rule and end up pairing them with socks.

As they raced forward—his brain fuzzy and mind whirling a million miles a minute—-Biscotti took up the rear. Occasionally, he threw a glance at the jeering siblings over his shoulder. “Uh…” They way they moved wasn’t right. All the body parts were in the right place, but the thing creating them didn’t know how muscles worked. Which, when he pictured Eternatus, made sense.

That thing was just a bunch of bones stitched together by Dynamax energy.

As she complained about the weight, Scotti did his best to help support the bag. But the three-armed method didn’t do much but slow each other down. In the end, he kicked aside what she sprinkled to keep it from becoming a trip hazard. Which really didn’t make much sense now that he thought about it.

Hallucinations didn’t really stumble.

Notes
Lessen the Load
(Total RKS: 200 RKS + 1 Curio)

Vanilla Kingsley

☉