#daggerprints

          he’s leaning against one of the counters in the greenhouse, unaware of what happened recently between diosa and kyara. he’s doing something on a piece of paper. taking inventory, maybe, just in case.

“di?”

          his voice is low and thick with something like mucus in his throat. he almost reaches up to rub his eyes, but they’re swollen up and tender and practically glued shut by whatever is leaking out of him. jesus. their dad said it wouldn’t be fun, but this is pretty awful. he’s almost fallen over three times today by misjudging a doorway or where an object is. 

how my muse clicked with yours: immediately┆almost right away┆slowly┆after several interactions┆they haven’t┆tiny siblings finally repairing their relationship

a thought my muse has about yours: i’m glad she’s doing better than i am, through and through.

a strange thought my muse has about yours: he gets vaguely jealous of how successful she is since he’s had periods where he’s going to the very depths of his pantry to find things that he can eat. but he’s also proud of her so who knows.

              she’s holding a box made of buckles that is BARELY               holding itself together. there’s nothing special about it.               it doesn’t hum or click like everything else. it’s -- just               a box. but she’s clutching it against herself, mouth               opening && closing a few times before she forms               a few words.

                   “di. ya’ busy?”