#sarastuss.

"not at all." he doesn't even have to think about her question — shawky has the instant answer right on his tongue the second she stops speaking. he's busying himself with a hasty shuffle through his desk drawer, throwing out broken pens, old scraps of paper, worn erasers, all while sarastus (buzzy's latest discovery — a living, breathing person!) lingers in his office and peeks around at his decor. she's spent the last forty-five minutes wondering about photos on the wall, books on his shelves, or items of interest he has displayed, and shawky answers them all with enthusiasm. "i love your questions. you're getting a hang of being around again, walking, talking, refamiliarizing yourself with... this is technically the future, i guess? or have we established that? that you're from the past? or..." shawky plucks his glasses from his nose and cleans the lenses with his tucked-in shirt. "i know you're curious, is what i'm trying to say, and i love that about you. i love how inquisitive you are. if you're wondering something, you ask. you don't wait or hold back, and that, i admire. i'm like that too." there's a stack of old leather journals on his desk now, all of them pried from the depths of his bottom drawer. he sorts them in his hands and grins over at sarastus. "buzzy was right. you're the best thing we've ever discovered." a pause. "well, i say we since it was our expedition. but it's him. he found you. he was exploring without me and he saved you from down there. the lingering question is, how did you get down there? how long were you down there? and how are you even alive?" shawky grins. "my turn to ask too many questions, i guess."

"…you know," he says, breathlessly flushed when they break free, "i was in the middle of proving a rather compelling theory." he's already leaning back in again, unable to help himself. "unfortunately, i can no longer remember any part of it."

in time, she sideeyes @sarastuss. "i am not... certain that distinction is as stable as we prefer to believe."

with the faintest curl of amusement, he continues, "they're rather good at it, after all—- remaining, even when everything else insists on changing." one hand idly lifts, reaching toward the slow unveiling of the heavens. "must be comforting, being so confidently awaited... though i suspect you've grown used to that, haven't you?"

it's a dizzying, tender light: @sarastuss lies there beside him, cheek pressed softly into the palm that props her. half-awake, g'raha adjusts to mirror her. "nothing too embarrassing, i trust?" his tail sways lazily, looping around to brush her leg. he smiles. "...though, if it was about you, i fear i've little defense." and in that, perhaps all he can feel is gratitude—- for she holds the private pieces of him: his waking mind, and the dreams that dwell only in the stillness of his heart.

what now? whoever did this must be long gone, that's if they even left a trail. still, the anger boiling within her wants to run for the chase. she wants to hunt them down so that they, too, will know the feeling of life slipping from between their fingers. like her birth parents. like her village. like the innocent people before them. people who don't deserve to rest like this, frozen in the final terrifying moments of life. but it's more then that. there's a small piece of her, a part of her heart, that hopes they may find a survivor. ❝ come on, we can't leave them like this. ❞