A few days passed with no differences to anyone's lives. It went by quite smoothly, which was good for Seneca, as it meant she didn't have to stress too much about them being there. It was nice and calming to have some people by her side to stick around, even with the eventual threat of them leaving to explore elsewhere. But she didn't bother to think about it. It wasn't for her to focus on. Only them. There were a few instances, everytime she got a little too close to Nightmare, it seemed, that Killer would make some sort of comment about it. She didn't know why he did, and Nightmare was very obviously bothered by it. The girl wondered if she should possibly talk to him about it. Wouldn't hurt. She doubted he would do anything to her.

So on a day she was using to check her field, noting that almost all of the stalks were a beautiful gold colour and ready to harvest, she'd brought Killer out with her. He was none too pleased about this. Seneca assumed he wasn't used to the blinding sunlight or warm weather, and could attest to the fact that it was unpleasant; it was why she wore a hat outside. A few times he would try to walk off, saying he was uninterested or bored, and wanting to do something else, something that would make him a bit more stimulated, in a way. Yet, every time she would wait a few minutes before he came back. She wasn't sure what brought him back, nor did she ask, as it wasn't really her business.

She stood up and wiped her brow with a sigh. It was almost time to harvest. After waiting several months, she could now be patient for about two days. Then she'd be picking them up for a good bit. Would they stay to help? She doubted it, and wouldn't really ask that they did. It felt inconsiderate to even think of asking them for help. They were her guests. She'd accommodate them, not the other way around.

"Are you done, or are you going to stand there for no reason?"

Killer asked, his arms folded across his chest, right under the target. She looked to him and smiled with a bit of glee, then nodded.

"I'm done, Killer. We can head back inside now."

He let out a sort of over-dramatic sigh, making a motion to roll his eyes, though he lacked any. She was curious how he could see without them. She was curious about a lot of things concerning him. Seneca wondered about the target on his chest, his eyes, the liquid dripping from them, why he carried a knife everywhere. Though, most importantly, she wondered why it felt she'd struck such a cord with him. Had it been, perhaps, her closeness to Nightmare? Or another reason, maybe. He wasn't exactly saying and she wouldn't pry. If he ever felt like saying, he would. Again, it wasn't her business.

She turned and began to walk back to her house. It was a good ways away, as the field was vast and they went walking out a good length to check the wheat. Killer reluctantly followed her, arms still crossed. The wind blew harshly from the east, blowing back her hat until it just barely held on, which made her thankful for the tie she'd attached to it. Her eyes wandered to her stubborn companion to see how he was holding up; unsurprisingly, he only got angrier and more annoyed by the wind, soon trying to slash at it with his knife.

Seneca quickly stepped to the side to avoid being hit. This worried her quite a bit. She was concerned and scared for her safety and his. Her thoughts went back to when she and Nightmare had gone into the guest room, and he hurt her. The bruises were still very apparent on her wrists and waist. Thankfully, not as visible as before, but they were still there. 

"-re you listening to me?!"

The girl blinked and focused her sights again on him. Killer was up in her face, the knife held dangerously close to her neck, very obviously threatening her. She regretted being in her thoughts once more. She could tell it would likely lead to her demise one day. Her hands rose to try and block the advances, but he was much faster and slashed at her. Seneca used her arm to block it while turning to look away. The knife easily cut into her shirt and tore it open, even making a scar in her skin a little. It wasn't deep enough to bleed but it stung like hell. She gripped her arm with a gasp of pain and stepped back in fear. Her feet got tangled with the reeds of wheat and she about fell down, yet a bit of leverage was there to help her stay upright.

Confused, she looked up to see Nightmare tightly holding her companion by the neck with one of his other tendrils, grimacing towards Killer with distaste. He growled, squeezing tighter, watching as the other futilely tried to get away. His arms grasped at the large object practically stapled to his throat while his legs kicked and dangled in mid-air. They may not have a reason to breathe, and not do so, but it still was scary whenever you were caught by the throat by something that could decapitate you. His knife was doing no damage and seemed to only make Nightmare angrier. His only visible eye narrowed to Killer, then went over to Seneca, easing slightly but not by much. He spoke with an even tone despite the circumstances.

"I apologize for his outburst. He has a habit of not thinking before he acts. May I help you?"

She held her arm and hesitated. The bruising was visible, albeit slightly, and she wasn't too keen on trusting him again. Sure they made up somewhat, but she wasn't going to easily forget how he'd hurt her. It was painful to deal with the scarring but she knew she'd be ok. Seneca had suffered worse. The wind blew harshly from her left and almost blew her hat off, her blonde hair swirling in the cool breeze and her clothes ruffled. Her hands went to her hat to prevent it from flying off, eyes closing for a moment, a soft squeak exiting her closed lips. She was used to the wind, however the situation made her way of everything. How could she trust either of them after this?

As if on cue, she felt her body be lifted and moved, then what she assumed to be arms wrapping around her. It was difficult to tell. Every part of him felt the same. Cold and slimy, a viscous fluid that coated her skin for a good while. A hand went to her head and gently pushed for it to lay on what she assumed to be Nightmare's chest, and as she opened her eyes, she saw she was right. It seemed not even the laws of science followed the rules of his body, because she could feel a steady heat coming from him, along with the faintest of heartbeats. It was relaxing in a sense. The frightened girl very much enjoyed all of this. As much as she wanted to run away, the signals in her mind not being eased in the slightest, she decided that, just this once, she could let herself be taken by Nightmare.

The dark skeleton smiled just the slightest at her relaxed form before it went away as he glanced at Killer. The one in question had stopped fighting but made no attempts to let it get away that he loathed his boss. This wasn't right. How could he possibly be letting himself get close to a pathetic human? She couldn't even defend herself, much less be of any use to them. And, given time, they'd leave the multiverse anyways to go back to their own, so what was the point? Surely his boss didn't mean to stay there. Did he? He was released from the crushing hold to fall harshly to the ground in a heap of respite and anger. Killer wasted no time grabbing his knife for an attack stance, but he saw Nightmare's tendrils more than ready to get him again, so he backed down for the time being. The elder's eye looked to the sun; half-past noon, it looked to be, which meant they should head back inside. He'd need to anyway. The light and heat was making him woozy.

"Let's go, Killer. And don't try anything. I could break you without hesitation."

He knew that much was true. Nightmare wouldn't dare hesitate to hurt or kill any of his gang should they step out of line. Even a being such as he had morals that needn't be crossed. And doing so would likely end in someone's demise. So he stood up and tucked his weapon away, then slowly followed as his boss led back to the house. It was a silent and frankly boring walk, broken only by the crunching of wheat or the breaths from Seneca. He'd get her back for this someday. He vowed it. Killer vowed to make her suffer for what she put him through, and what she'd done to Nightmare. By the stars above, he'd make her suffer. A few times he had to forcefully hold himself back from lunging forward to attack him, as he knew it would only end in one way. At this point, would it really matter all that much? All of their lives went to shit the moment they appeared in this god-forsaken multiverse.

* ˚ ✦

"Oh my stars, is she ok?"

Dream helped to set Seneca on the couch, knowing the cut wasn't very deep, but still worried for her. Nightmare only nodded in response before walking off, not telling of what happened or giving any sort of hint. This made it exponentially harder for the positive guardian to figure out what had gone wrong. He hadn't seen anything that morning aside from her and Killer leaving to go do something outside. He'd given a small goodbye before then. Around five hours later he watched as Nightmare looked out the window overlooking the field, hands held behind his back, then jerked and teleported away. Dream was very, very confused about all of it. Though, stories could wait. He needed to make sure Seneca was alright.

He gently grabbed her arm as he sat beside her, Error silently on the other, far side of the couch messing with his strings. Dream assumed this bothered the other in the sense that Error couldn't do what he enjoyed: destroying aus. He hoped to find some sort of outlet for all of them so they'd enjoy their stay as much as possible, not letting the burden fall on Seneca, as she didn't know the things they did. Nor did he want her to know. It was best to leave some things in the dark.

As his hand tilted her arm so he could have a better look at the faint scar, he heard her wince, and that made him feel very horrible. He quickly set her arm to the way it was before while apologizing profusely to her.

Meanwhile, Blue watched from afar, confused and worried for his new friend. He wanted to help, yet could tell from how Dream was acting that it wouldn't be a good idea, so he stayed with Ink for the time being. He sat on the floor, legs crossed over one another, and his head propped up by his arms. His cheeks puffed out to show his frustration in not doing what he wanted. It didn't feel right to watch while someone he liked was hurt. He wanted to do something. Her brows furrowed slightly, which made Ink chuckle as he looked at Blue. The artist gently lay a hand on his friend's shoulder for comfort, to which the younger glanced over his expression eased some, now curious. Ink looked to the sketch he made, and leaned over so Blue could see it as well.

A heartwarming picture of all three of the guardians, happy and content, enjoying a nice day out as usual. Blue noticed a neat little thing that Ink had added, however. Seneca was with them, expertly drawn to fit neatly between Blue and Dream, with Ink quite content to be on his own. This saddened Blue to see how his friend had drawn himself. He loved the picture, however he felt that a few things could be added. So he reached over to the pencils and crayons Ink had left out and grabbed the sketchbook, doodling with enthusiasm, his tongue poking out as he concentrated.

This amused Ink greatly. He'd been more than content to be on his own, but if Blue wished, he could change it. It wouldn't be too difficult to redraw the picture anyways. As the younger continued, Ink looked to Seneca and Dream. He couldn't hear what they were saying as it was a little too soft. Usually his hearing was very good, even hearing things from several aus away. It wasn't important though; so long as she was able to be happy, he would be too. She glanced in his direction and they locked eyes for a moment. The carnation he'd made for her was still as bright and brilliant as ever in her hair. Ink unknowingly smiled to himself as they continued to look at each other, that is until she glanced back to Dream, and they went back to quiet conversation. 

Ink was tempted to be jealous, but he never got the chance, as Blue nudged him in the shoulder to get his attention. The skeleton looked to the new drawing and smiled wider. Many of their friends from all around were crudely added into the art, Blue having no obvious experience with art but enjoying it nonetheless. He got an idea and motioned for Blue to keep the sketchbook, then gave him several different colours of pencil and crayon, and motioned to the others in the house. It didn't seem his companion got the hint as he looked curiously over to Ink with a raised brow.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Go around and ask them to draw something, anything. Add something to the picture."

Blue lit up once more with newfound enthusiasm and nodded, quickly standing up to go about and ask. Ink knew it wouldn't likely work, the others weren't very much into these things, and only Dream would seem even remotely interested. There was always hope, though. So long as that remained, anything was possible.

Dream watched as Blue went around and talked to the others. He was unsure what the younger was attempting. He hadn't been paying much attention to the exchange between him and Ink. His focus was on Seneca and only Seneca, and he looked back over to her with a smile. Her arm had been bandaged up to prevent the wound from getting bigger and possibly bleeding. His healing magic would have done the job, but it wasn't too serious as of right now, so his worries weren't very high. Even so, he was still slightly concerned for her, and wanted to make sure she'd be ok. That was one thing he enjoyed about his job; helping others and being able to see them happy. He adored it.

Seneca noticed him smiling at her and did the same back. His touch was nice. Soft, gentle, and warm. She never expected skeletons with no blood within their bodies, as much as she could see, to be radiating heat. It's not really something you think about. Skeletons can be warm, so she learned. What a thrilling new idea. She grabbed his hand without really thinking about it, which made a new colour form on him. His cheekbones turned a bright golden shade from the sudden contact. She could only assume it was a blush, which again, made no sense to her. Her head tilted a little, only to shoot up and create her own blush when he reciprocated the touch. Her heart began to race so quickly she felt it might burst. It felt foreign. These feelings weren't normal to her. She hadn't felt them in so long, Seneca had mostly forgotten they'd even existed.

They held eye contact for what may have felt like eons. They couldn't telepathically communicate, but it felt like they were. Slowly their hands made a motion to interlace together. Her blush only got deeper, as did his, as they both found this new development embarrassing.

Suddenly a sketchbook was shoved between them, blocking their view of one another. Dream blinked and refocused his eyelights to the blue blob of excitement smiling in front of him. The younger gave the positive guardian no time to react as he put the sketchbook in front of Dream again, which made him fumble and use both hands or catch it, now no longer enjoying Seneca's grasp. A few separate colours were put on the paper, Blue barely able to keep from jumping with joy. Dream was slightly confused and wanted to ask, though looking at the paper, then his friend, then over to Ink who sat solemnly away from them on the other side of the living room, he caught the hint and studied the paper.

It seemed like everyone had been involved in it. He could tell whose was whose by the colours alone, and the added pictures to it only made it easier. Nightmare seemed to have added a very neat and flowy signature near the bottom left, Horror and Cross did a collaboration with drawing themselves, albeit in an amateur-type way. Killer appeared to have wanted to cover the entire piece with red as it had scribbles of it going from the top left to the right, yet stopped mid-way and instead just jabbed a few holes through the paper. Or attempted to. The material Ink used was very sturdy. There were light puncture holes where the pencil tried to go through. Dust added a few books, unnamed, and himself reading them, leaning up against the sketch of Blue. Then there was Error. Dream knew Error to not be the creative type, quite the opposite, and half expected to have seen tears or rips. But surprisingly there was his addition; the face of someone he very well didn't want to remember, nor have a reason to, and wouldn't say who it was. All of them except Seneca would know who it was. If the guardian could help it, he'd keep her safe and away from that man.

He noticed as Seneca tried to look over to see the art as well, and as much as he wanted her to look, Dream had yet to add his own special part to it. So he gave her a gentle smile before picking up the art pieces and moving away.

Blue took the opportunity and sat beside her before she got lonely. He saw her watch Dream walk away, and the confusion in her eyes. Loyal and optimistic as ever, he knew to cheer her up, not wanting her to be sad or upset at all. He motioned over to Error to get the destroyer's attention. It was difficult, as said destroyer had been blanking out after Blue left him alone. There wasn't much for him to do and he was getting a little bored of only being able to knit. No TV, no way to effectively use his powers, and no backup yarn. He was almost out of the few he brought and there was no easy way to go back home and get more.

"Hey Error! Error! Error! Wanna knit?"

He set his sights on the annoying short skeleton, and the girl he was currently leaning over to get his attention. She didn't seem too enthused about the idea, nor the contact, and shyly rubbed her arm while glancing away. Error had no prior talking with her so he had no idea what her personality was, and he wasn't too curious to find out either. All he wanted to do was stare into space. Blue was determined to get to him though, and got off Seneca to go over and talk to him. This gave the girl a perfect opportunity to get up and walk to her room.

She locked the door so nobody would be able to come in. She didn't trust some of them, especially Killer and Nightmare, and wouldn't take her chances around them. She went to her small closet and looked at the many shirts she had stashed away. Black, red, blue, denim, gold, and a few others. Along with her normal blue jeans or shorts. Perhaps she should change her entire outfit. It wouldn't hurt, right? Maybe they'd enjoy seeing her in something different. She would definitely feel much better not being in the same clothes. She washed them every day, sure, but it got boring after a while. The girl looked to the tear in her shirt and sighed.

"I guess I'll have to sew this up later…"

* ˚ ✦

Soon she had changed and wore a new set of clothes. The old ones were either thrown in the pile for washing, or set on her bed so it could be fixed at a later time. She'd need to find a date to sew that back up, though it wouldn't be for a while. Farming duties kept her busy most of the time, then it was washing clothes, feeding her horses and riding them around, or cooking for herself. And now that she had guests it was triple the time spent on food. At least she had company. Seneca was happy with that, at the very least. So long as she had someone to talk to, she'd be fine.

She looked herself in the mirror to make sure everything was good: jean shorts to compensate for the warm air in her house, a paint-splattered shirt that hung off her shoulder, and her personal favourite of her collection, opaque thigh-high stockings with lace at the end. It took a lot of thread and wasted months to make them, and she was genuinely proud of her work. They fit her perfectly. She was a bit worried for how the others would react, however she simply told herself that they'd be fine, and if it got too much she could change into something else. Not appropriate for a farmer to have most likely, as her family would say. It wouldn't exactly work to be out in the field all day wearing what she had on. 'Maybe I should wear my boots with them? Or would that just make it worse?'

She pondered for a moment too long, as Ink appeared in her room through an ink portal, curious about what she was doing. He'd seen her leave and wanted to know if she was ok. Watching her get so close to Dream may be making him a little...no, he couldn't be getting jealous. Dream was his friend. And friends don't get jealous. His eyes changed to curiosity as he glanced about, taking in the state of her clean and interesting room. Unlike the guest room, which he'd taken a small glimpse of, her personal bedroom was purely centered around space and the Moon. Memorabilia he suspected she had created herself hung from the walls and ceilings, and a gentle rainbow light spread across one of the hanging glass sculptures. Tiny, but decipherable. He thought it was rather adorable.

His eyes continued to wander until they landed on her, which she blushed deeply from seeing him, and as he glanced over what she wore he could see why. His face gathered a bright rainbow glow to it and he stuttered for a moment.

"A-Ahh….I-I...I'm so sorry, Seneca...I um...ah...I-I just wanted to um...make sure you were doing alright...Horror's making supper and wanted me to ask if you wanted to help him…"

She thought for a moment before nodding. She knew he was there, even before he noticed her. The portal he made had created a noise, and she was too caught up in her thoughts to ask him to leave, focused on a few things, the biggest among them being the way the sunlight filtering off him. It was quite beautiful, in a way. She couldn't help feeling her heart be torn in so many different ways. It didn't feel fair to them. Yet, the rainbows reflected in his eyes, and the sunset's gaze on his smile made her want to melt on the spot. And though he stuttered, she still heard his soft voice, which only made her feelings deeper. Only goodness knows where this could lead her. Perhaps a dangerous road, or maybe one filled with excitement and adventure, even more so one of melancholy and wonder. She didn't know. The only thing she did know was that she couldn't deny these feelings anymore.