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Cellbit is working late at his castle, the fear room is safe enough, safe from prying eyes and white bears. He's organizing his evidence when he hears the familiar noise of skeletons outside and zombies attacking something. The swing of a weapon against bone rattles through the night.
Roier isn't home, deciding to stay near Foolish's titan and work on his city, and Richarlyson is still missing. Which means it's someone else outside the castle walls, walking around in his forest of red trees by the sounds of it.
He dusts off his pants as he stands from where he had been sitting and sorting on the floor, he walks through the security doors and smoke to go up the elevator. He walks to the front part of the bridge and watches a figure fight mobs close to the edge of his home. The figure is a familiar --if not rare-- one.
Quackity's blue windbreaker is zipped against the chill, his golden cross glinting in the moonlight, his beanie shoved messily onto his head. He looks tired as he swings a diamond sword against another skeleton.
Cellbit jumps down, bracing himself as he pulls out his glider. He hits the ground a little rough, which makes enough noise to alert Quackity and the monsters to him. His sword swings true and he grimaces at the feeling of rotting flesh against his blade. Quackity and him make short work of the mobs and climb around the hillside to the elevator to take them up to the main entrance of the castle.
Quackity is silent, Cellbit is silent, they take it in stride together. Sitting in the death room is peaceful, it's quiet, the footsteps of Deus da Morte are the only ambiance in the place. The ceiling spirals into nothingness and Cellbit is hyperaware of the breaths being taken by the man next to him. Finally like glass shattering there's a particularly sharp inhale, and then speech flows forth.
"What...what do you do when you miss something?"
Cellbit ponders this question, there are a thousand different ways to define the word "miss" and somehow he thinks Quackity might be referring to all of them.
He tells him as much, "Depends on what you mean by miss"
Quackity shuffles awkwardly
"How do you cope with forgetting? How do you fix it?"
Cellbit thinks of the memories in a white chamber, of frozen people and white streaks of hair, the nothingness ever present in his mind of that time.
"You remember or you move on. Guess it's all based on what you're hoping to get out of it"
"I know it's there, just behind my eyes" Cellbit turns to look at where Quackity is laying on the floor next to him, speaking softly.
"What is"
"Everything"
"Mm"
"I can feel it. Of course everything is important when losing your memory but...there are a few that i can just feel are more important. They're colorful...Red and yellow and pink"
Cellbit rolls that wording around in his head, lets the words sit heavy on his tongue for a moment before spitting them out; "Just colors? Nothing else? Maybe something more substantial? Physical?"
"Just colors, maybe a bit of sounds if i'm lucky. Laughter, the click of a camera. Never anything useful"
Red, Yellow and Pink. Cellbit closes his eyes and imagines starbursts of these colors being swept into the wind, smoke and powder, an illusion of remembering something.
He thinks of white and gray, tinny robotic voices, beeping, the crackle of ice. An illusion of choice, the remembrance of something cold and exhausting.
"How important do you think they were?"
"More than anything else in the universe" Quackity is playing with his cross now, the chain making a small tink noise when it hits the main pendant, "There's more but they're second to those three. I see blues and reds, more yellows, but the other three...they are very specific in a way I cannot describe"
"I hope you remember more of who you were"
"Forever showed me a grave of a child"
Cellbit pauses again, staring into the ceiling lamps with a certain feeling of knowing, "And?"
"The red was the same shade as the one behind my eyes"
He's looking at Cellbit now, the blue eyed man can't find it in himself to return the gaze.
"I see"
"Yellow is always bright, nearly neon. Pink is always subtler, with traces of music sometimes"
"Ah."
"I think you know them. The colors"
"I think I might"
"I can't bring myself to ask about them"
"Maybe it's because you need to find out about them at your own pace. I mean how did red make you feel?"
Quackity doesn't answer, he doesn't need to. Cellbit understands perfectly, he gets it really.
"I hope Yellow and Pink are a bit nicer"
"Hmm"
They stare and whisper about what they know, Cellbit retells tales of his younger years with Felps, Pac and Mike. He paints tales of a demon on a battlefield with dry humor that made him laugh till he cried, he reminds Quackity of early days spent together exploding houses and terrorizing the favela members.
They lie there until Mouse comes home covered in tree leaves and pink sand, tired and in need of sustenance. Cellbit makes breakfast, Mouse curses Quackity out over the table. They yell at eachother in spanish so fast Cellbit's headache returns a thousand fold. In the end they're all laughing.
Cellbit closes his eyes that night and dreams of smoke trails in pink and red and yellow.
Quackity sleeps that night and dreams of a bow, a beanie and a jersey.