Chioniphobia

Stitch

"...and that's how Frostbite joined the Guardians," Bunny finished.

Grim glanced up as the amorini around her applauded the tale. "Thank you for indulging the boys, Pookie. I should really hang up now- this call likely murdered my minutes."

"Job Pitch in the face for me, won't you, Grimace?" the Guardian of Hope requested.

The Reaper smiled indulgently. "Of course. Have fun, my darlings!"

Bunny, Jack, and Greasy all chorused a farewell as she hung up.

There was a stirring of feathers, and Grim turned to see Cupid lurking in the entrance of the Nest.

The Nest was a dome, a circular room built with sticks and twigs, stitched together with string and scraps. Its interior was lit by lanterns, which Grim would've thought unwise had she not been fairly certain that the golden lights inside the lanterns weren't fire. The amorini milled around, reminding her of the bats with whom she'd once shared a cave. She caught glimpses of the different colors of wings- rusted red, sparrow brown, raven black, dove white. None were quite like Cupid's, whose ivory wings held a subtle iridescent sheen. He grinned at her, with pointed teeth so very like her own, his multicolored curls falling over his eyes as they always did.

"Terribly rude of you, to tell me about my brother's death and then fly off," she remarked sharply, crossing her arms. "No words of comfort? No apologies for dropping such startling news?"

Cupid shrugged. "I hadn't seen darling Pitcher for five centuries, sweetheart. You can forgive me for wanting to catch up, surely."

Grim frowned primly. "Cueball, love, you could've told me after your little rendezvous."

Cupid slinked up to her, his grin unwavering. "Mm, perhaps. Could've built up the antici..."

He draped an arm over her shoulder, his lips nearly brushing her cheek.

"...pation," he breathed, popping the p.

Grim rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her smirk. "Rocky Horror Picture Show? Really?"

"I've been considering going as Frank N. Furter for Halloween," he drawled, walking his fingers up her neck before poking her cheek. "Loved your Mrs. Lovett costume last year, by the by. A shame you couldn't convince Pitchy dear to at least carry around a cleaver."

"He was actually supposed to be the Babadook," Grim confided, her head lolling back as she ran her fingers through the feathers of his wings.

"Ah. That explains the top hat, then."

"It was the only piece of the costume I could get him to wear," she confided, her smirk fading as she mulled over her discovery.

"How is it you know of my brother's death and not me?" she asked, her head snapping upright.

"Because unlike you, I keep up-to-date on our world's politics," Cupid answered, squishing her cheek gently before removing his arm from her shoulders. "Pitch's little scuffle with the Guardian's was a hot topic amongst the fae, you know."

Grim scowled. "I had a first-hand account of that battle."

"But your information was incomplete," Cupid pointed out. "Pitcher likely didn't want you to be put out with him, poor dear."

The Reaper scoffed. "Poor dear? He's the one who killed my brother!"

"Sandsy came back all right. The point is, darling, he was afraid of you being upset," Cupid reiterated.

"Then perhaps he should have thought of that before killing my brother," Grim snarled before sweeping out of the Nest.

Cupid smiled resignedly and sighed, putting a hand to his chin. "Oh Pitcher, you're really in for it now..."