Pinkgothic played:

Noko and Rapture (Puppet)

"You're not real."

Elizabeth's forepaws stopped mid-loose-knot of two feathers at the sound of the so indifferently presented phrase. "...what?" She was too baffled by the non-sequitur for anger to grace her tone.

"You're not real," Frederick repeated in a leisurely tone, shifting himself in his slouch to rid himself of the subtle strain of the unchanging posture he'd maintained for at least five prior minutes.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" The feathers were dropped, expression on that draconic muzzle morphing into an incredulous glare.

"Precisely what it says on the tin." The index digit of Frederick's gloved right forepaw tapped itself idly against the lawn.

"I'm an apparition now?" Forearms came to cross that purple chest, eyes narrowing. Her tail coiled itself as if to mimick a serpent and turn itself into something foreboding or intimidating, falling short by a long shot.

"...or not precisely," Frederick let his eyes drift closed as he corrected himself, unusually unapologetic. "You're not the Elizabeth I know," he clarified, though still without inherit lament, mockery or praise.

"What, so Darkscape, Dominion, the sci-fi world, Adrethyrian's world, none of that actually happened? I just imagined that, did I?" she posited, tone thoroughly saturated with annoyance.

"Don't know," Frederick tipped his shoulders into a shrug. "Don't really care," he added, exhaling into the grass as he set down his muzzle on crossed forepaws. "It's better this way."

The dragoness opened her mouth... and closed it again, shifting her gaze theatrically off to a point on the lawn where her mind superimposed an audience. "...ignoring the sheer audacity of your argument, consider me morbidly curious: Why is it better this way?" she retorted, flatly and bitterly, as if hoping to goad her raptorian friend into some even more obvious faux pas she might have an excuse not to let him recover from.

"Oh, if you were real, I'd probably kill you," he pointed out, poking at the soft ground with his claws and raking through it a scant few centimetres, ruining that particular patch of grass in the process.

"...you can't be serious," Elizabeth exasperatedly exhaled, with her voice tinged with some alarm.

For a long moment, there was no verbal response, Frederick instead seeming to contemplate that statement while worming one digit into the earth idly. Finally, just as his companion might start to doubt the sincerity of his thoughtful demanour, the awkward silence was broken, and the raptor spoke softly and with some sadness: "Probably not."