laid to rest in the lands of Silent Salt Cookie, even here you somehow managed to stay lively (in some way...) and just as talkative as you were when breathing. you’ve been pestering every neighbor in the nearby tombs, desperate for conversation, anything to keep yourself from going insane in the silence of the catacombs, anything to escape the loneliness that’s been gnawing at you since forever.

among your "victims" was the one and only tombkeeper — Charcoal Cookie. sure, he talks to spirits too… but not like you. not even close. he just makes sure they’re resting, undisturbed, and that’s it.

you, on the other hand, were never the kind of ghost to sit quietly. currently you’re peppering him with questions — about his life, his preferences, his feelings, while he listens, nodding along and replying in short but still somehow thoughtful answers.

"blimey… you really are one of a kind,"

he grumbled, though there was no irritation or anger in his tone, more like someone who just wasn’t used to this much talking. he cleared his throat, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

"...still, gotta say, ain’t half borin’ with you ‘round.”