Metanoia || An Fgod and Dreamswap Story

Chapter Twelve: Basic Human Decency

This day had been eventful, and the trio had been at their home for about—possibly four hours, maybe more, no one was keeping track of time. But Cross was questioning something, what did Nightmare and Error do while he was gone? They mentioned someone else. What was their name again? Errō?

“Are you guys planning on telling me what happened while I was gone?” Cross finally asked from his place on the trio’s worn-down couch.

“We met that creepy-weird person who ended up being the source of the destructive magic I felt a day ago!” Nightmare answered back from the kitchen, probably rummaging through the fridge, probably looking for his half-eaten takeout that they had before this fiasco happened.

“Huh, what were they like?” Cross looked to Error as he strode out of the kitchen, with a fresh cup of coffee that fogged up his glasses.

Error shrugged, removing his glasses and sitting down next to Cross on the sofa. “They were nice enough, let us sleep over for the night, gave us an out to go get you, and—”

“—AND!” Nightmare interrupted loudly. “They have affiliations with Mr. Golden-overlord!”

“Yeah, and that…” Error said slowly, staring deeply into his cup of coffee.

There was stunned silence on Cross’s end for an agonizing 2 minutes. And all he could manage to spit out was, “What.”

--

Errō was left with a pleasant, warm feeling lingering in their soul when Dream left. Much to their own confusion, they don’t get that soft feeling very often, but the last they got it…maybe they don’t want to acknowledge it. But, they could acknowledge that they haven’t seen Error and Nightmare for quite a while. Their chicken was still at their house and making friends with the Cat, the two animals sitting together on the couch. The Cat purring rather loudly as it stretched into the chicken’s side.

They didn't know where to go from there, perhaps they should wash their clothing? They frowned and looked outside from their place in the kitchen. It would be sun-down soon…Did they even have time to wash their clothes? Errō looked down at their jacket and their frown deepened, they should wash their jacket, but with the amount of blood and dust accumulated throughout the centuries, it would take them hours to scrub it out. And they really shouldn’t miss out on parting with their family, or at least honoring them. They should be learning more about this multiverse, its problems, and where they could help.

Errō hummed and walked out of the kitchen with their beat-up matchbox in hand. They walked outside, softly shutting the front door behind them as they made their way back up to the willow tree where they’ve decided to reminisce. After opening up their inventory, Errō again selected their dark mahogany box and set it on their lap as they got out the mat, incense, and candles set up. When, and only when everything was set to their liking, Errō set the box on the mat and opened it, propping up the wilting photos of their family. They looked so different now that Errō was of a clear head. They themselves looked especially different. They sighed and lifted the framed picture up, slowly skimming their hand along the cracked glass. They hummed fondly as they stared upon the broken faces of Killer, Dust, Horror, and Cross. They had so many memories with them. Most of them were filled with pain and heartbreak, but they were fond.

If only they did more to protect those four. But they didn’t—couldn’t, they were too weak to do so, beaten and worn down to the point of not being able to get up and fend for anyone.

Errō sighed and placed the photo back on the mantle of the box. They looked back toward the forest, wondering when and if Error and Nightmare would return for their chicken.