Things were quiet in the kitchen.
There'd be nothing but the sound of all the 2,763 little activities that the prisoners of the Eternal Algebra Class now had to do in exchange for their... *relative* freedom. All those years spent trying to break free, trying to liberate themselves from the pain that is having to *exist* in that strange little dimension, that place where Four's word, and their word alone, was law. They never thought they'd see the day, really; given how much power they had over the whole thing, it was a miracle that they were able to distract them so thoroughly, allowing them to make their hasty escape. Then again, that algebralian was always bouncing from one thing to the next, solving one equation after another. Always torturing people, only differing in just *who* exactly they were targeting. If it wasn't them, it was the remaining contestants in the Battle for Battle for (Battle for) Dream Island. They thought about them every once in a while, thought about everything and everyone they left behind, and felt bad because of all the suffering they're likely experiencing at that very moment. But... not *that* bad, really. If it wasn't them, it was *them*. Most unfortunate, indeed.
All those years focusing solely on escaping the wrath of the classroom, and what did that get them, exactly? They were barely able to break out of the Eternal Algebra Class by the skin of their teeth, and they ended up in... yet *another* cramped space, still taking a bunch of orders. Orders that aren't even from a different number. *Spectacular*. Instead of just doing math (or trying to, anyway) all day, they were now washing the dishes, cooking and baking food, cleaning up after the messes of others, repairing broken equipment, the works. It was the same old story; tiring, exhausting, grueling work day after day, just in a different setting, in a slightly different way. It's like nothing changed at all.
Just like most things in this miserable Battle for Dream Island.
Match and Pencil were among those hapless few burdened with this *incredible* task, entrusted with cleaning the plates and making them shine. In the brief hours before another meal was served, anyway. The two worked on a single sink, unable to be separated unless you were willing to put up with their constant complaining and whining. There was much arguing and bickering over what they had to do until they eventually settled on this (for now, anyway); lots of words thrown about regarding break time and alliances and all that nonsense. But Four and X would inevitably step in, threaten them with a *very* terrible time if they didn't fall in line, and they'd begrudgingly get back to it. Very fun times.
They eventually got a routine going; the writing utensil did much of the menial labor of actually washing the things, while the Firestarter checked to ensure there wasn't a single speck or blemish, as the algebralians insisted on an *absurd* level of perfection, despite them being mere mortals. She'd then put them away, and the cycle would repeat for the next plate. Again, and again, and *again*. Repeat this 2,763 times until the day eventually... fizzled out, and everyone collapsed from sheer exhaustion.
Speaking of which...
Match would eventually notice that this next plate was taking a *lot* longer to come around than the last few; turning to Pencil, she'd notice that she was completely out of it. She was nervously looking around, glancing from one thing to the next, not being able to spend a single second staying still. "...Uh, Pence-Pence?" The matchstick lightly tapped her in the shoulder, which prompted the doodling implement to *immediately* turn to her, wide-eyed, before pretending like nothing was amiss. "Four's not here, right?" That level of concern prompted the one with the red 'hair' to look around herself; the kitchen was full of the usual commotion, with not a single trace of the algebralians in sight. "...No." She'd answer, *somewhat* confident. "I think so, anyway. They, like, last told us to keep doing what we're doing; I assume they're, like, outside, in the middle of their playtime."
