Chapter Text
Scarab carefully watched Prismo's face flip through... several colorful emotions.
Confusion, shock, befuddlement, all within a beat of very loud silence.
"...Wh-What...?"
Scarab tried to stand up a little straighter. He could do this. He had to do this.
"I asked... What would you wish for?"
"...Like, hypothetically?"
Scarab huffed, gracefully resisting the urge to facepalm. Glob, his love was a bit dense sometimes, wasn't he? "Prismo... I want to grant you a wish."
That just seemed to further baffle the Wishmaster, looking at Scarab like he'd grown a second head.
"But... what? Scarab, you know you can't grant my wish, right?"
Now it was Scarab's turn to look confused. He tilted his head at Prismo. "And why not?"
"Well... Wishmasters don't get wishes? Like, I can't just grant my own wish, I thought that was kind of obvious."
Scarab chirped, considering. "Well, sure, you cannot grant your own wishes. But... well, I'm not you, am I? There has never been two Wishmasters before."
Prismo blinked dumbly at him, like Scarab might as well be talking gibberish.
"Scrabby, Lovebug, I get what you're trying to do but... I don't think that's how this works...? I don't get to... y'know want things? I grant wishes for others!"
He laughed nervously, looking at almost anything in the Time Room other than Scarab. Until the beetle took his hand into his talons, giving his hand a tender squeeze.
"Prismo... You know you're allowed to want things, yes? I though you were finally... realizing that." Scarab gestured around the Time Room.
Prismo made an uncomfortable noise, looking at the floor.
"Not really...? Well, I mean, it's different. It's... It's one thing to, like, decorate the Time Room. It's simple. It doesn't... I dunno, rewrite reality. Me wishing for something could... could...."
"Could what?"
"I don't know Scarab! Break the multiverse?!"
"Prismo. You exist outside of time. Outside of most of reality itself. It's true, we don't know what might happen if you wish for something... But..."
Scarab made his way up Prismo's arm, onto his shoulder, to nuzzle his face sweetly.
"...You have done... so much for me, Prismo. You've done everything. My life, my eternity, is infinitely better with you in it. So... I'd be honored to do this for you. Let me have the honor of being the one to grant you your wish."
Prismo sputtered for a second, Scarab could see his brain stalling for a moment.
"I-I dunno, Scarab... It could just... not work. I wouldn't want your first granted wish to be a dud. And... what if this wish... takes us away from each other...?"
"If it does, then..." Scarab hesitated. "Then... I'm am thankful for being at least a part of your eternity. I would be happy, knowing I gave you something no one else could."
Prismo sniffled, shaking his head. He let his head fall into Scarab's side as he thought.
"...I..."
Prismo started and stopped a few times, trying to find the words. Scarab lets his talons run through the Wishmaster's curly hair.
"...Can I... think about it?"
"Of course, love. Take all the time you need."
Prismo gave his side a kiss, Scarab relishing in the close contact. He knew his Wishmaster had... quite a bit to think about. And that was okay.
It was a big shift for Prismo, him wanting things.
The two returned to a comfortable routine, thankfully in an unusual doldrum of Wish Makers. Prismo spent a lot of time staring at a blank lap top screen, thinking quite loudly.
Scarab made no attempt to ask again. He knew Prismo. He'd come forward when he was ready. If he was ever ready.
"...Scarab...?"
Prismo broke the silence one day, hesitant and unsure.
"Yes love?"
"...I think... I think there's one thing I could wish for..."
"Oh?"
Scarab put the book he was reading down, giving the Wishmaster his full attention.
"It's just... I like my life. A lot. I don't want what pretty much everyone who comes here would wish you. More responsibility would give me headache. I don't want money or wealth. I have you, and the life we built here, and that's perfect for me. But..."
"But...?"
"I've just been thinking... What happens when your... tenure here is over? We don't know when or if the Organizer might pull you back as an Auditor, and... well... I... I don't think I could stand it if I couldn't... If I couldn't be with you. But, I'm here, on the wall, except for extremely specific circumstances. It's never... bothered me before. But... Well, I wouldn't be able to hug you. Or kiss you. Or even just touch you."
Scarab listened, intensely.
He'd admit it, he didn't consider what would happen if he was ever called back. If he was ever made Auditor again, even if it was only part of the time, what would happen to his contact with Prismo...?
"So... I think I've got my wish, Scarab."
Scarab nodded, standing up, ready to listen. "Go ahead, love."
Prismo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, steadying himself. Scarab could only imagine how strange it must've been to be on this side of the transaction for the Wishmaster.
Prismo mouthed something to himself, possibly double checking his wording. Now or never.
"I wish... I wish for those who hold the title of Wishmaster, as granted by the Dreamer... to have the ability to choose the form they take while in the Time Room."
Scarab felt the magic wash over him. It felt like it his body was emptied and refilled with something wild, chaotic. His thoughts raced, trying to fill in the gaps, just like how Prismo said. He looked at his partner, bracing himself, taking a breath.
"...Wish granted."
At first, nothing happened. A few beats passed, and nothing happened.
At least the multiverse didn't instantly delete itself!
Prismo blinked, looking at his hands, hesitant.
And then he reached forward.
The two sat in stunned silence as... a hand emerged from the wall.
Neither breathed for a long moment.
Prismo experimentally flexed... his hand. That was his hand. The fingers twitched as he turned it in all directions. It looked almost like it was made of gas, something fluid and constantly moving. It shimmered a deep, rosy pink, flecks of sparkling stars scattered across the knuckles.
The Wishmaster pushed further. A hand, then an arm, then a shoulder. A gradient from rose to his signature light pin, the flecks of stars traveling up the arm like freckles.
"S-Scarab...?"
"It's okay, love. Come on out."
Prismo took a deep breath, closing his eyes tight before stepping out.
Scarab felt his breath hitch. Oh dear Glob... Prismo was beautiful. So, so beautiful. His skin swirled and shimmered like a pool of water, looking far more ethereal than the beetle was expecting. Sitting in his chest was a glowing star, it's gravity holding the body together. Two shooting stars orbited around his chest, one a bright gold, the other a deep blackish-purple.
He was still mostly human shaped but... there was still something surreal about him. Alien. Otherworldly.
Prismo shook his head, seemingly getting used to the sensations of his own body.
"S... Scarab...?"
"Oh, my love... How do you manage to look more gorgeous every form you take?"
Prismo gave him a shaky smile, standing on shaky, uncertain legs. He looked at himself, really looked at himself, in wonder.
And then let out an undignified squeak at the realization that he was nude. He dove into the blanket pile, emerging with a pout as Scarab had himself a hearty laugh.
"Oh ha-ha, yeah, laugh it up." The pout wasn't serious, Prismo seemed far too enthralled with the prospect of his new dimension.
"Scarab! Scarab, come join me!"
"Me?"
"Yeah! I did say "anyone with the title of Wishmaster" didn't I? That's you too!"
Scarab seemed to only just register that that now applied to him. He made an excited chittering sound, hesitantly emerging from the wall. He felt odd, like he was on the verge of floating away, yet distinctly there. He was the same pale blue as his projection, but otherwise resembled his physical body pretty closely, just with the same swirling cloud appearance to his shell.
Scarab eagerly dove in to join the blanket pile, holding Prismo close, nuzzling and kissing him sweetly, lovingly.
"This is wild, man... Like... I'm sitting. Sitting in the Time Room."
"Right... quick point about that..."
Prismo cocked his head as Scarab climbed up to the entrance to the Time Roon and tried to stick his arm out. The gas that seemed to compose their bodies dissipated and faded up until his elbow.
"These forms extend only within the confines of the Time Room."
Prismo thought for a moment, but nodded. That was fine. He could requisition a body if he ever needed to leave the Time Room.
"Lovebug. Thank you... Thank you so much."
Scarab smiled, quick to rejoin his beautiful Wishmaster.
The two fell into a new routine soon after. Prismo found out pretty quickly he could dive in and out of the wall as he wished, change sizes, and float around the Time Room. He took a delightful amount of glee in dressing himself, finding himself a collection of loose robes, ones that hung off his shoulders lazily. Scarab was honestly a little surprised at the how conservative Prismo decided to approach jewelry. Unlike his usual routine of making himself sparkle like a treasure chest, he opted instead for simple earrings, a necklace, and arm bands.
He looked like something truly divine. Something awe inspiring.
And Scarab, of course, took to making some new additions to the Time Room. Specifically, a designated seating area, a luxurious spread of couches with pillows and blankets.
And boy were the looks they got from Cos and Death something else.
The Organizer seemed to pause for the first time in the eons Scarab knew her.
"...Hey Scarab?"
The beetle chirped, cracking an eye open to look at the Wishmaster. They were piled onto the couch, Scarab lounging on Prismo's chest, content.
"Yes, love?"
Prismo adjusted the hold he had on Scarab, nuzzling his neck. "I was wondering something."
"That's often worrying."
"Hey" Prismo scolded, unserious.
"Fine, fine. Carry on."
"...What would you wish for?"
Scarab froze for a second, thinking. It's not like he hadn't thought about it before. He's thought about it for centuries. Obsessed over it, even.
But that was before he would ever go to Prismo for help.
And... when he did finally understand that Prismo was someone he could trust... he shoved that wish down into his gut. He would never want Prismo to think he only got close for a wish...
"...I've thought about it before..."
"Really? How come you never made a wish then?"
Scarab made an uncomfortable chirping sound. He head swirled. He... he felt pathetic for feeling this way, but... he didn't feel he deserved it.
Not after this long...
"...It's... complicated."
Prismo hummed, rubbing Scarab's back softly. "...Would you want to make a wish?"
"...I don't know. I..."
Scarab sat up, sighing softly. Prismo followed him up, cupping his cheek reassuringly.
"...For... for the longest time, I had... convinced myself I didn't deserve it..."
"...Deserve what, Lovebug?"
Scarab nuzzled into Prismo's hand as he sighed.
"...My wings and antenna."
Prismo nodded in solum understanding.
"I... I spent so long convincing myself that I deserved what happened to me. That... I broke the rules, so it was the natural and deserved outcome. I used... so much reasoning to try and make it stick. That... that it was better that that had happened, since no one liked bugs. So, the less I looked like a bug, the better... I told myself if I couldn't remember the homeland, who was I to demand my heritage back. I told myself it made me stronger..."
Scarab blinked a few times, willing away the tears.
"But... Glob, Prismo, you've been tearing it all down. You made me realize how... terrible what happened to me was. You like my... less conventional features. You made me remember my home more in the past year than in the last hundred thousand. But..."
"But?"
"But... I don't want to... erase what happened. As much as I hate it, it shaped me into the person I am now. And that's the person who loves you, who has this life. If I knew this was waiting for me at the end, I'd do it all over again."
Prismo nodded, pulling Scarab into a soft hug. "...Regardless of the decision you make... If you want to make a wish, I would be honored to grant it for you."
Prismo kissed his neck, making Scarab chirp happily. He purred for a long time, taking the moment to think. To process.
"Prismo."
Scarab sat up, looking the Wishmaster in the eye.
"I wish... without altering my history, and without depriving anyone else of their body or body parts... to restore my wings and antenna in a way I can control, dismiss, and alter."
Prismo seemed to take a moment to think. Then he smiled.
"Wish granted."
Scarab felt his back tingle. His head itch. The torn ends of his wings felt... ticklish almost. The beetle took a moment to examine the feeling, taking a few steps back from Prismo to kneel.
"Go for it, Scarab. You can do it."
Scarab still hesitated. He'd never felt more scared to open his elytra, not ever since his wings were taken from him.
"You deserve it, Lovebug."
Scarab took a deep breath and let his shell open.
He felt something whoosh across his back. He kept his eyes frozen to the ground. There was something... strange on his back, a strange... heavy weightlessness? He didn't even know if that made sense, but that was the best way the could describe it.
"Lovebug... Look."
Prismo sounded in awe. That probably a good sign, yes?
He turned his head, slowly.
And he felt breathless.
He could see where his real wings ended and these new ones began. They were detached almost, floating an inch or two off the tattered ends. He gave them an experimental flap, chittering in delight as the motion flowed nearly seamlessly.
They looked gorgeous. They weren't his wings, but that was okay with him. They reminded him a bit of the false wings he made for the Gala, with the hand and eye patterns, now with the addition of star motifs.
He took a moment to experiment. He could summon and dismiss them. His fingers could trace the edges, but phase through the membranes.
He took a long look at Prismo before bursting into happy sobs. The Wishmaster was quick to scoop him up and hold him close, running a gentle hand between the base of his wings.
"P-Prismo..."
"I know Lovebug. I know. They're so gorgeous. You're so gorgeous. I'm... sorry they're not attached, or that they don't look like yours but... I dunno, think of them like prosthetics."
"They're perfect, Prismo. You're perfect. Wait, hold on, I need to try something..."
Scarab followed the tingling itch on his head, feeling a ghostly pair of antenna uncurling over his head. Again, they didn't quite feel right, that same heavy weightlessness, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the smack in the face the smells of the Time Room hit him with. The perfume of the flowers, the vinegar of pickle brine, and...
Oh.
Oh.
That was Prismo's smell. Scarab dove his face right into Prismo's cheek, nuzzling, antenna finally able to card through his hair and touch his skin. And he could smell him, he could smell Prismo, a combination of spice and ozone, and he could smell himself all over the Wishmaster's skin.
There was something intoxicating about that, something that made Scarab not pick his head up again for quite a while. Prismo held him all the way through it, humming and rubbing.
"Prismo...?"
"Yeah, Lovebug?"
"...Thank you. For everything."
Prismo hugged him tightly.
"You can thank me" he started, kissing his neck and jaw sweetly, "by being mine. For the next eternity."
Scarab's face flushed blue, but he nodded eagerly.
"Yes. Yes, I am yours. You are mine. For the next eternity, my love."
Prismo nodded back. "For the next eternity."
-------------------------
They speak in legends, in tomes, in myths, of the Wishmasters.
At the beginning of it all, in the Age After Nothing, there emerged the one called the Wishmaster.
In the center of everything, in the center of nothing, there is the Time Room, domain of the Wishmasters.
In a place at the center of time, in a place where time cannot touch, there is the one called the Wishmaster.
It is a god of no equal. It is a god of many names, in many forms. But it is always the one called the Wishmaster.
And in this era, the one called Wishmaster is of two beings.
How one meets the Wishmasters may very. It takes something powerful, something capable of building a bridge into the void. But all require a piece of the Eternal Dream, for it is the Dream that is the threads of the Void. Objects with fragments of the Dream are the most reliable vector to crossing into the Void.
It is two beings one might be greeted with.
The Living Dream known as Prismo, and his protector The Star Auditor known as Scarab.
Prismo is always there. He is aloof, but a comfortable being. He is a creature of comfort, lounging in a self made sanctuary of pillows and blankets, surrounded by perfumes of the Dream Lilies hanging from above. Leaving him gifts of crystals and jewelry may earn you his favor, although even then, that is not given liberally.
The Time Room is his Domain. He can freely move between and from the walls, for the walls are at his command.
Scarab is a feature only on occasion. One should rejoice if they commune with the two Great Wishmasters. He is orderly, precise. One might think this sparks conflict between the two, but instead it brings harmony. He is a god of intimidating disposition, but reasonable if approached without fear. He is even less liberal with favor than the Almighty Prismo, but offerings of fruits and rare teas may give you a chance.
The Scarab and Prismo are protective of each other. When approaching, do not offend either. Do not disparage the other. They are a pair, equal in all things.
The Almighty Prismo and Scarab, the ones called Wishmasters, offer the same bargain to any who find his domain, his domain of the Time Room.
One wish, anything your heart desires, you may ask of him. And he will make it so.
But do beware, wish makers.
Realities may warp or split or merge, people and objects may shuffle through time and space, memories, lifetimes, erased or rewritten forever. But they will make it so.
For the Almighty Prismo is not cruel, he is a tricky one. For the Almighty Scarab is not deceptive, he is percise.
Any wish lacking detail, they will fill the gaps. And lapse in thinking, and forgotten factor, and unforeseen consequence, they shall consider. To those they favor, they may advise. To those they don't?
Well, you will receive what you wish for.
Whether or not you can live with that is not a trouble for the Almighty Prismo and Scarab.
They are the crossroads, the boundary, the space between it all.
If one is lucky, they might hear the song of the Wishmasters. One might bare witness to the great wings of the Almighty Scarab, as they two circle each other in a cosmic dance. Do not disturb them if you find this majesty. Consider yourself blessed, and listen to the strange song of the divine.
For this is the nature of the Wishmasters.
Mismatched, yet incomplete without each other.
Together for eternity.
Thus is the myth of the Wishmasters.
