Fire. A flame was a life. A candle was a measure of longevity. This was well-known in the Dream Zone. A place between time and space, where neither made much sense. Skull guided those from the realm of the burning to the realm of the extinguished with a reverence that could not be compared to any other in the Dream Zone. Spooky usually tries not to pay much mind to those that were extinguished. It reminded them too much of the husk they'd rather not name. He used to make fire. It would burn in their chest. It would burn away anything that didn't matter and leave them with warmth between their lungs. Spooky loved it. Spooky loved him. But that fire in their chest... was doused out. Like a fire under water and sand. It was sudden. A vacuum left from the death of innocence. It made them feel empty. Spooky was not unfamiliar with emptiness. They had felt it many times. But to live with it was to live without a heart. And it was awful. Spooky decided it best to avoid the husk. Surely, he could not hurt them if they didn't talk about much with him. They were, of course, wrong, being around him made them feel the vacuum become even emptier. If that was possible... It made them feel like a collapsed star. Like they consumed until nothing but their center mass was left. A hole in the universe that could not be satiated. They felt greedy. Greed was the essence of the animal that hunted for a hunger that burned into its bones. Spooky was greedy, they knew. Though they never asked for hunger. They were born with hunger. They were always hungry. And again and again, they had been denied that necessity, until they began to believe it a luxury. They learned to live without it. Like a fox without meat or a bear without salmon. It was torture, but it prevented hurting others. They could hardly even start a conversation, now. Spooky was social internally. They used to speak with such confidence, but now they hardly recognized themself in the mirror. A child once full of flame now extinguished by fate. If you asked anyone else, they'd call it tragic. Spooky called it karma… and turned it into music. Music was a language all understood. There were no words to confuse in quavering melodies, in winds, in strings. Spooky was especially attuned to it, despite having never touched an instrument. Skull noticed a rekindling. Spooky quite hated the thought of having a fire rage in their chest now, where they held what mattered. But a gentle flame or a bonfire... yes, yes, that may do. Spooky slowly attempted to sing a song to those about them. Niko considered them a friend since childhood, so they began there. Niko loved hearing them sing. "Like a songbird!" Niko would note, though not a tease, more a compliment. Spooky didn't know how to accept compliments. Spooky didn't know they were worthy of compliments. They thanked Niko anyways, always. They didn't realize it, but the compliments, though they felt like a splash of water to the flames, opened the door to potential connections. Spooky began singing to Keath. The spider of silken song. Keath adored their voice. They listened without judgement, all day, if it meant Spooky could open up. Spooky loved it, though they felt greedy for wishing for so much attention. It was a... how do you say it? Ah, "warming" feeling. Nothing would ever compare to that fire they felt in their chest. But that was alright. They no longer wanted that fire. They sought out torches and lanterns. Something gentle, something that could be extinguished without grief. And that is a rekindling worth an audience, a rekindling worth the watch. Something that could help you build what burned… That is what is beautiful.
