Daydream Believer

⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep? 

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?

⌚ : Is your muse good with keeping on schedule for meetings, appointments, or events, or are they always late? Or, are they always a bit early?

♿ : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?

☺ : What is your muse’s smile like? Do they smile often?

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

⚠ : How does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? Do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one? 

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?

🏨  : How well does your muse sleep?

❤ : What are your muse’s thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

⚯ : Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?

👓 : If your muse wears glasses, what are their glasses frames like?

♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?

❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?

♬ : Does your muse sing well? Regardless of whether they sing well or not, do they enjoy singing?

📐 : Is your muse good at math? Do they like it, or do they hate it?

♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?

εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?

📱 : Does your muse prefer calling or texting?

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

ツ : Does your muse prefer lots of friends, or just a few close ones?

                Maybe if you ask someone they’ll let you call someone - or mail a letter. Oh the innocence of children. Amberly had voluntarily enrolled herself in Brielle as such she was certain that most of the rules that applied to the other patients didn’t apply to her. She was allowed full access to the phones, mailing services and the like. It wasn’t exactly special treatment but the Jacobs girl was free to walk out those front doors any time she liked, it was by choice that she kept herself locked away behind them. If Brielle couldn’t fix her then no one could, it was a simple fact. “I’ll do that, thanks, must be nice to know when they’re coming for a visit, huh?” The Jacobs girl asked sweetly, cocking her head to the side as the little girl continued on.

                “Nice to meet you, Holly. I’m Amberly.” The decreeable beauty piped, simultaneously scribbling down the girls name in flawless penmanship. Another smile flittered across her pink petals as Holly asked her next question. “Not exactly.” She explained, as if she were telling the small girl a large secret. “My brain is a little bit…broken. I can’t remember very much, so I write it all down - see?” She turned the book then, allowing Holly to filter through the pages if she so chose. “That’s so neat about your dad though - what kind of things does he write?” The Jacobs girl inquired, sandy hues never leaving the petite frame of the little girl.

“It is,” Holly nodded. Though even if they hadn’t come in, Holly had a feeling that she would have been able to compensate. She would have pretended she was an orphan with a great destiny, or hidden away at a magical boarding school. “I hope you get to see your parents soon too.”

She listened to Amberly’s explanation about her brain with wide eyes. Holly was old enough to realize that what the older girl said was serious, but as she spoke, Holly couldn’t help but think of how... interesting it sounded. It was tragically beautiful, as if she were a princess who’d been cursed by an evil witch. Someone who would have to go on a quest with their friends to find the magical item that could restore her memories. But it was wrong to say such things allowed, Holly had learned that. Instead, she nodded emphatically. “Oh. I’m sorry.... my hearts a little broken, so I kind of understand.”

THe mention of her dad’s novels cheered her. Holly was always happy to brag on her Dad, who she thought had the coolest job in the entire world. “He write’s childrens books, like Narnia or Harry Potter. They were pretty popular around the time I was born, but they’re not so well known anymore.”

                The sound of another voice briskly pulled the brunettes attention from her self pity party. Her sandy hues happened upon a young girl and with her words Amberly couldn’t help but quirk a smile; an offer of candy, how terribly sweet. “No,” She said with a whisper of a laugh, pulling herself from the wall that seemed to be supporting most of her weight. “But thank you, that’s very sweet.” A fuller smiled crossed her pink petals then. “I’ll be just fine, missing home I guess.” Amberly admitted some how feeling it was alright to confirm a spell of home sickness to a child. There was something about children that was freeing, how you could tell them anything without repercussion of what a fully mature mind might think. Had this been an older individual the Jacobs girl might not have ventured so much information, having settled instead for the classic ‘I’m fine’ - but this girl, there was something warm behind her eyes and it gave Amberly hope.

                “What’s your name?” She questioned, squatting down as she simultaneously flipped open her leather bound notebook in order to access the people tab within.

“Yeah. I miss my parents too,” Holly nodded. She remembered how she’d cried when her parents had dropped her off. She hadn’t cried since, but more often than not her daydreams brought her back home.  “Maybe if you ask someone they’ll let you call someone. Or mail a letter. My parents said they would see me at Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“I’m Holly,” Her eyes lit up as she noticed the noetbook. “Oh! Are you a writer? My dad’s a writer.”