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Sometimes Amethar sees stuff, when he’s gotten a moment away from the Candia stuff he’s supposed to be doing to talk to his sisters, or at least the statues of them that’ve been made in their memory. Cal can handle all those papers that make his head spin when he can’t read what’s written on them, and if he doesn’t got it then Caramalinda probably does, so what’s it matter if he sneaks off before the petitioners arrive to try and sort through some of the things he’s been feeling as the twins get close to their Saints’ Day. Y’know. Big things. Important ones.
“Uh, hey? It’s me again. Wish you were around to tell us what you wanted us to do.” He swallows around something that feels like a gumdrop stuck between his teeth, then sits down against one of the pillars that bear his sisters’ likenesses but none of their sweetness or strength. “Think we’d probably be better off if you were. But, hey. I’m doing the stuff I know how to do, so that’s gotta count for something, right? Think you’d be proud of the girls, too. They’re getting stronger every day, just like you.”
His candy bones ache, the way they get whenever cola rain’s gonna come down later. So he goes to sit down, criss-cross apple sauce style, under Rococoa’s plinth, drumming his hands on Payment Day’s hilt until he’s feeling a little more solid and a little less poppy. Amethar rests his head against the sugar marble and figures he’s got another hour or so before anyone comes looking for him, so he shuts his eyes and thinks he might be able to get a power nap in if he’s lucky.
Except, well. The statue across the way, the one of Lazuli, it looks a bit…
Well, the thing about that is….
He’s got no idea where this word comes from but it just looks so Quangly. Rippled, almost, like the great peanut brittle cliffs, only the cracks are glowing with strange citrus energy instead of rock-hard caramel. The ripples spread outward from the center like spokes of a lollipop wheel, until the statue splits into blue-razz peels and magic rushes out, filling the room with cotton candy clouds. Sprinkles and candy shards plink off his armor and Amethar brushes the dust off while a figure pops in where the statue once was. He’s… he looks sorta like him, really, maybe twenty years older, twenty pounds heavier, and whatever he’s made of, it definitely isn’t candy. Still black, though, so, hey, except for the whole ‘my sister’s statue is looking super fucked up’ thing, this can’t be that bad, right?
“So, what kind of candy are you?” Amethar says, crossing his arms and puffing himself up. Gotta look the part, especially if he’s gonna try and muddle his way through this himself.
“Uh... none. None kind. I'm a human, well, human with some extra sauce on it,” the new guy says, hands stuffed in his pockets and a sheepish look on his face, maybe something like embarrassment. He grumbles, shakes his head so some of the stress falls off, and then levels with him. “Look, you know a way back to New York from here? Being away from home just feels wrong, like I’m stepping on someone else's turf.”
Amethar tilts his head and squints. He feels like how he feels when the letters he’s reading on the page start squiggling around. He wishes he had someone else to speak up for him, but he’s all he has right now so he’s gonna have to do it himself, and so the next thing he says just tumbles out of him in a rush. “The hell is a New York?”
The other guy opens his mouth and points a finger like he’s about to tell him exactly what a New York is for the next several hours, and then deflates. He rolls his shoulders and sighs, and something about that feels familiar to him, and Amethar wonders a little bit what kind of responsibilities he might have, if they’re anything like the ones he dodges by hanging out here. His non-candy counterpart doesn’t say anything about that, but instead says, “You know what? Not important right now. Not as much as me getting back to it and pronto.”
Amethar shakes the last of the sprinkles off his cape and glances where the statue of his sister used to be. Right, yeah, he’s got authority, he should probably be wielding some of it at a time like this. “Thing is, the turf you're on is mine, seeing as I'm kinda the king.” He pops his collar, armor gleaming like tinsel. “Well, not of all of Calorum, but this part of it.” Wait, was that too much? He’s flubbing this, he knows it, posturing instead of just saying stuff that’s true, so he swallows the pit in his stomach and gives it another shot. Smiles like he means it and not just because he thinks it’s what you’re supposed to do. “Lemme start over. So I'm Amethar, this is Castle Candy, and we gotta sort some shit out, don't we?”
“Kingston Brown, from uptown.” He gives him a nod and then rolls up the sleeves of his coat and rubs his hands together, almost like he’s licking his chops. He peers at the floor with a tilt of his head and flicks his gaze back up at him. “Looks like I’m standing in a pile of pixie dust right about now, you figure that have something to do with this?” He shakes his head, grumbling, “All this feels like some quangle bullshit to me.”
What in the bulb is a quangle and why does he suddenly seem to know exactly what it means even though he swears he never heard it at all before today. They’re lucky they have bigger fish to fry or Amethar would probably have to get someone to explain all this to him and twice as slowly. Instead, he can’t keep his gaze from tracking the little bits of candy shards all over the place, and he figures if he plays it casual, keeps it cool, maybe it won’t have to stay that way. “There was a statue of Laz, right about where you’re standing. It’s, uh, kinda exploded right now, though. Maybe putting it back together wouldn’t hurt? I’d like it better if it was fixed up, is all.” He tries not to sound sullen and sulky about it, but there’s this lump of something like peanut butter in his throat and he can’t talk around it.
Kingston smiles, warm like the center of a brownie. "Couldn't hurt." He hefts himself off the plinth and starts eyeballing the bits and pieces that need to come back together. "You wanna pitch in or just kick back and watch?" He offers, tossing the idea over his shoulders, counting on Amethar to pick it up. Like being weighed and measured with honey instead of vinegar, and feeling like it could go the other way just like that.
Amethar takes the hint. “Feels bad if I just sit and watch when I can do something. Let me get that." He starts sweeping the sweet dust on the floor into a little pile, since it turns out his cape is good for it, and what his cape won't catch he can boot around. He picks up some of the bigger shards and peels and drops them on the candy-stone stand, in front of where Kingston is kneeling. “So, how are we sticking all this stuff back together? You have something for that?”
"Could use glue if I had some. Not sure if I've still got any juice this far from the city…" He rubs his chin, cracks his knuckles and his back, and then heaves himself up. "Then again, fuck it, there's only one way to find out. Stand back, would you?" Kingston draws this funny looking rune in the air that looks sorta like a coin, and for a little bit the air hangs and nothing happens, but then the magic kicks in and oh, damn.
The magic Amethar used to see back when Laz was around felt sickly sweet and syrupy, sometimes this harsh acidic burn, but Kingston's is sorta like coffee con leche and banh mi and hot dogs, like gyros and arepas and a big pizza pie, like a light that doesn't come from the bulb above but from a bulb of garlic thrown in a pot and the warmth that it brings. The magic forms soft golden bands and wraps around what used to be a statue, and somehow the pieces of candy get the hint and click into the places they used to go.
"Oh, shit!" Amethar shakes himself. He watches the last few sprinkles join their compatriots and sparkle in the stone. "Now that's what I like to see." He strides to meet Kingston, who's starting to glow faintly blue and blur around the edges, and daps him up. "Been a real pleasure working with you." Something about all this is easy instead of how it usually is for him, like sludging uphill in molasses, and for the first time in a good, long while, he doesn't wish someone else could've handled this for him. He can't help but smile, when he thinks about it like that.
"Hit me up any time you come by my side of town." The glow around Kingston picks up the pace, swirling like a lollipop and a small, pleased laugh bubbles out of him. "Look, I gotta go. I can feel the cavities setting in just by looking at the walls too long." He slips his hand back into his pocket and gives Amethar a wave with the other. "Don't be a stranger." He nods his head, eyes sharp as toothpicks, as the blue-razz twizzles over him, calling him back.
"Take care of yourself, alright?" Amethar nods right back, arms crossed and shoulders low. The wind rushes as the quangle un-quangles and Kingston vanishes in a puff of lemon-smoke and cinnamon sparks. Amethar hangs around a little longer, looking at the empty space where Kingston was, just in case things are still a little messed up somehow. The moment ticks by and soon enough, he's left alone with his sisters and their statues like nothing ever happened. But he'll know, maybe even keep it to himself for awhile, something he can think about when things get hazy like they usually do.
Been a strange morning so far. He thinks he can wait a bit longer to see what the afternoon'll bring.