Simo and his brothers are laying on their father’s bed. The oldest one is having a crisis, he has to be the strong willed but why is it so hard? Simo has fuchsia colored eyes, scruffy celadon hair, sunken facial skin, and a imperceptible scar right above the left eye.

“Velano, what’s going on in your mind?” Deronimo asks, poking a finger on his forehead. Grando gets up wearing Vidar’s cloak and goes to the window, always silent.

“Ah… what, no, I just don’t know anything anymore. Every sentence Kaladon says confuses me all the time. My brain is in a incomprehensible clusterfuck of roiling emotions and it is hard for me to be judgmental on the situation of events.”

“Well shiet, let’s hope that this catastrophe will be over soon.” Simo said, casting a down look face.

“So annoying. Be quiet for one and clear your head, Velano, I’m being an asshole for the sake of your mind.” Grando bluntly says. His voice is cold but understandable, everyone always complain making the day turn sour. He spots another kid somewhat resembling Jasholin rushing towards the window then crashes the party.

No one knew what to do rather can’t as Earionperro’s supremely weird. Jasholin stares at the broken window before shrugging his shoulders, he snaps his fingers. Turning around to face the kids, they’re confused with the sudden person.

“My name’s Jasholin, pleased to meet you four,” he reaches into his pockets and takes out a cuboid concealed cleaver along with some burlap sack. He flips the weapon to unsheathe it, the four huddle together whispering about the suspicious kid breaking windows. “Anyone want food?”

“Eh?” they said in unison, tilting their head in bewilderment. Earionperro mimics them, his eyes change in to charcoal blue colored lotuses dancing about. He chuckles confident on explaining to Sandy, since they go way back if that makes sense.

“I heard about Vidar, got a clear indication where he is. For now, food, I hope you guys are super hungry!” he says, comedically smiling. Deronimo doesn’t sense harmful intent coming from Jasholin as he hums cutting the food. *What’s the purpose for being here?*

Simo is just sitting there like an emotionless doll, silently playing a hardcore chess game with this tomato egg named Altosoba, who likes cheese. Fucker dotes on it and think Altosoba’s his child.

“I better hope your not thinking about that imaginary friend.” Deronimo questions rather bluntly.

“He’s real… not fake! Come on, Altsoba, we’re leaving!” he says, stomping out of the room. The whatever grows legs, gets up, and follows him while flipping them off.

“Kids, whippersnappers that have too much of imagination, but I suppose it’s good. Also were we flipped off by a tomato?” Jasholin says, finishing the final touches.

“You’re the one to talk. Look at you.” Grando points out.

“Wrong, I am in fact way older than the Royal Guard, who existed before Saige was even born.” he teases, well if that isn’t one giant truth bomb. Do they need to know the whole truth or just a little bit, eh, whatever.

“Huh, so are you God Revenant King?” Earionperro just simply chuckles at his question as if he himself was Charlie. He present them some burgers on different boards, seems almost proud at the concoction.

Could someone really desire being God Soul King? Might be a dream come true, but doing so will always make one alone. Is that why Charlie Aardiperro has a bipolar attitude, he’s always bearing the infinite weight of the entire existence on his own shoulders without wanting help from his own family. Would an individual want that when no one will ever understand them?

“Wagyu steak burgers, at the ready and for you guys to enjoy. Nah, but I wished. Not having an obligation to do any paperwork is so entertaining.”

They smile wholeheartedly, taking savoring bites. Their whole bodies melt into gory molten sludge, yeah no, Jasholin waves his hands dispersing the illusion. Deronimo is rolling his eyes at Grando’s constant questions that sounds mocking.

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“I wonder if Macsen Rabisu knows what the hell is even going on, oh yeah, gotta give Simo his burger!” he mutters, wrapping it in a sandwich wrap and steps out, fully committed to finding him.

Simo: Altosoba is standing on his shoulder as he walks his residence’s halls. Making Tacticun’s kids cry just places a beacon on your head and usually results in destroying kneecaps, forever crippling them or painfully slow death. “Why won’t anyone believe me that my best friend is real or am I not real?”

That saddens Simo, who sits next to some ornate door reeking of blood, sweat, and something musty. Way different compared to the others, out pops Kaladon, his chest seems larger but must’ve been dressing up as a drag queen or putting on makeup. He seems very relaxed, almost tranquil enough not to yell at someone for apparently no goddamn reason. Vlaxon traces his lips almost trying to memorize them vividly and leans closer.

“What’s going on? Why is Kaladon inching towards me and what’s in his pocket?” he groans inwardly. Vlaxon pushes Simo up against the wall carelessly and non consensually kissing his mouth, choking him and pulls out that same short sword, intending to kill a child.

“Kaladon, pl-please stop! I don’t like this!” Simo frantically pleads to him. Trying to twist his body but is pinned in a iron grip as he slowly stops resisting.

“This is your fault, if you weren’t adopted as Vidar’s son! I wouldn’t have an excuse of resorting to do this to spite him! Besides, you came onto me, got that.”

Jasholin slams Kaladon head onto the ground, “What the fuck are you doing? He’s a lil midget kid, you can’t have sex with one!”

“Why?” Kaladon asks, surprisingly laidback from what just happened.

“It’s fucking messed up, simple as that.”

“Huh. Am I supposed to feel regret or guilt, that is weak ass shit, I take what I want and what I will. Well that’s nice because I know what I’m doing, I enjoy causing suffering to people as they can’t have enough, and nothing ever tragic happened in my childhood. Here’s the funny thing, no one will ever believe you, a kid and some stranger,” Kaladon looks at Simo while walking away. “Also try and tell your father, I will be a lot worse to you Simo, you will get nothing, no justice, no more peace, people will accuse you for your horrible act, consequences will never come after me, I hope when I die and you tell Vidar, he can’t bring that stupid thing called justice to me as all you fuckers are one giant collectiveness of justice will always prevail when it doesn’t happen, and you will think it’s your fault. You win this time have fun!”

“Pure evil bastard. Uhh, here is your food.” with that Jasholin took out the burger and handed it over. As soon a bite was taken out of, all memories with Kaladon lessen the painful feeling. When he was done Earionperro picks him up and Simo buries his head into Jash’s warm chest.

Harald appears clutching his head, slowly looking at them and sighs. He proposes to watch them together which Jash accepts without hesitation. Harald is not muscular, he’s skinny, slim long arm, charred to all hell arm, short flat torso, long legs, reddish brown eyes, and medium length spiky purplish hair. Wearing a dark brown long trench button up coat, bandages wrapped around his waist, black pants, white stockings, and brown boots.

Lothbrok is being hounded by Velano about Simo’s imaginary friend.

“Jeez, I didn’t know babysitting was this hard. Schlangen, you better not be looking down on me or I will personally materialize the true form of yours and kick its ass.”

All this time seemed a lot slower when everyone was goofing around. Harald is carrying a white slim casket-like box on his back which holds Schlangen, one oversized fuller greatsword, the fuller goes from cross guard to Schlangen’s tip, and its guard is two oversized studded rectangular stack on top of each other. No scabbard could be made to fit the Regalia, not exactly failing the definition of being a sword. Lothbrok looks over at Grando eyeing his box suspiciously seeing this latch which opens to launch the Regalia, all of this from fingers snapping.

Velano dodges from it firing like ballista bolts. Deronimo… was fidgeting anxiously obviously sensing something either good or bad going to happen in the near future. It’s more of survival instinct when they were still living in the woods. Simo always has been this leader for having fun and getting the hell out of perilous situations.

Grando is writing in a journal about his thoughts. ‘Dear friend, I know this is long but I gotta write. Living in Viajero’s residence is great but there’s a clawing in my stomach, about multiple things, one of the most prominent is my bloodline. I am from a different race called Fomoire, we are rumored to manipulate energy that’s exerted from Jenseitiger, but it’s significantly more complex and complicated than those rumors. I don’t have time for explaining useless shit which to be frank, I don’t care about my lineage. The three accepted me and Vidar, even though he slapped the fuck out of me when we first met, he still loves his children. I wonder what it feels like if someone kisses my cheek or forehead. I… actually never felt parental love excluding Vidar. Gran Balor is technically my father and I utterly despise that thing as he breathes.’

“You’re weaker than me, Vidar, the literal personification of your own existence!” Hvithar said. “You need to assert your dominance on all of the weak!”

“Yeah, sure. But I really don’t care what you think. I would rather end up in a vegetative state than follow your shitty advice or have you creeping in my skin.” Vidar says, annoyed by Hvithar’s constant annoying presence