Chapter Text
Treehouse game night was probably a bad idea. Outside, the Quartet’s unicorns were terrorising a warren of rabbits before the last lights of day faded and they were confined to the stables. As he shuffled his Chaos Cards, Skandar tuned out of the sounds of the massacre. It was a miracle how the Island still had a thriving rabbit population at all.
Neatly, he made four equal stacks on the mishmash of different cushions that now padded the treehouse floor.
"Oh I've been wanting to know what these numbers are for," Flo exclaimed as he dished out the cards.
"It's like top trumps." Skandar said.
"What's top trumps?" Mitchell asked.
"Oh trust me, we are not getting into that on the first game" Skandar sighed, knowing that would require at least an hours’ worth of explanation.
"The only thing you need to know about top trumps is that I always win," Bobby grinned.
Daringly, she brandished her cards like a weapon. Skandar wondered if Bobby had siblings. He pitied them on family game night.
"Well you're from the Mainland too, are you the champion of this?" Mitchell rolled his eyes.
"Oh I never really bothered getting the cards, it always seemed a bit lame," Bobby noticed Skandar’s crestfallen face and quickly backpedalled, "I mean nothing else is cooler than actually being a rider, obviously."
In the distance, what sounded like lightning could be heard, along with some pitiful squeaking. Those poor rabbits hadn’t stood a chance.
"Most of these statistics are inaccurate. Do they have someone come to the Island and update them every Chaos Cup?" Mitchell idly wondered, fanning out his deck like it was a game of poker.
"How come water beats fire? If I made the game air would beat everything." Bobby complained.
"It's just so the game is fair," Skandar said, though even he was starting to question his own knowledge.
Was this what he was like every time he asked about the Island?
Then Bobby and Mitchell started arguing about the ethics of card games, with Flo attempting to interject before giving up with a sigh. Skandar knew they were mostly joking, but he looked away in disappointment. It was a stupid idea.
Barely audible, a soft sound.
Silently, Flo placed down a card on the fluffy heart shaped cushion between them. With a smile, Skandar did the same. A stack soon formed, with the pair passing each other cards, tapping out numbers, blushing every time they brushed hands. Maybe treehouse game night wasn't such a bad idea after all.