#shipshipping

Loto dozes back off. Moana half-seriously debates carrying Loto back to bed or carrying blankets over to Loto.

Once Loto's settled back in bed, Moana tentatively reheats leftover takeout. Loto is unconscious with her face buried in the blankets, and doesn't seem bothered by the smell of food in that position, so Moana finagles the oatmeal back from the crows and washes the pot.

Moana's phone rings. It's from Motunui. ...She picks up.

(Please just be Gramma please just be Gramma please just be Gramma)

It’s everyone!

Moana keeps her voice level and the conversation normal-sounding while also finishing it as quickly as possible before she has to answer questions about “what was that noise” and “is someone else there” and “where are you” and definitely before another… feeding? There really isn’t a way to make it sound not weird.

Let’s give Moana a hand y’all, she’s been maintaining compartmentalization and not freaking out for days straight and frankly I’m impressed.

Waiting feels even longer now that Loto has been awake, however briefly and distressingly. Moana keeps glancing over, hoping, anticipating, fearing.

She does her homework sitting on the bed next to Loto, listening to the same soft breathing from the day before.

Loto dreams vaguely. It’s dark. A hand grabs her arm and magic sets her nerves alight. A curse wraps her in a coaxing embrace, promising warmth and safety and the taste of metal and fat. Moana whispers words that slip away into tiny boats and the croons of broody crows that mean she’ll stay. Pinprick stars of magic alight on her arm and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and spread and this is what’s wrong with her this is why she’ll never graduate this is why no one will want her no one will want her-

The taste of life and smell of love shoves everything down like an in-the-way child until she’s cloyed with comfort shoved into every orifice like a mother’s vitriol. It presses against her, into her flesh, choking her frantically, protectively, back into sleep.

She wakes with her only human friend’s bleeding hand between her teeth and her own pupils wide with contentment, and finds herself warmed by the blood in her stomach.

…Did I say she has a therapist? She does.

They’re so getting a bonus this year. It’s probably gonna be in the form of a model boat because they won’t actually accept tips but it’s a darn fine model boat. (I kid you not they sell for hundreds. Tumblr user cwoodfordimodels is a known and respected name among collectors.)

Very proud of the dream sequence & awakening. This is the point where I should probably let y'all know, this is me:

In my defense I was obsessed with Encanto for 2 years straight and had a bit of a Frozen kick towards the end

Moana had really just thought the cute marina employee was like, neurodivergent and/or traumatized and that's why she resisted friendship - which is probably not actually wrong and did somewhat help Moana continue to stick out the rough patches, but also missing the very important factor of some a**hole put a friendship-activated curse on her. Like seriously, who does that??

And now she's sitting at Loto's dining table, doing homework and eating takeout while waiting for her friend to grow in fangs that she's not actually gonna have use for, that's just what happens when you base a curse on a lycanthropy curse.

Loto's social worker dropped by about an hour after the GP, and Moana is now fuzzy on Loto's age. Social worker interrogates Moana, which is completely fair, they've never met Moana before and their job is to work in Loto's best interests. Moana manages to pass the unspoken character assessment and so is told to tell Loto to call the social worker when she's feeling better, and the social worker will make sure both their absences are accounted for at college(???).

Moana waits. She waits and does homework and reapplied the numbing cream and feeds the crows and swaps out the hot water bottle for a warmer one and orders groceries and stops heating the water bottles and puts down gauze to keep the bed sheets from getting bloody and props up Loto to reduce blood flow to her head but leans her head forward so she doesn't swallow or aspirate the blood and makes dinner and collects the teeth once they've fallen out and waits some more.

She calls Gramma Tala, whose wisdom is a question: is losing blood worse than losing a friend?

And she thinks about it. Thinks about being friends with Loto. Thinks about the awkward swings between friendliness and ghosting. Thinks about saying ‘hi’ at the marina and either being ignored, barely noticed, or never being able to get away with only a hi. Thinks about the infodumping, the way Loto lights up when she can just talk, her smile and the funny little noises she makes when she's excited but trying not to be disruptive, her just-too-loud voice when she forgets to check herself, the way she mimics the crows when she trades them peanuts for pieces of seashells and lost coins, the focused state where Loto doesn't really pay attention but what she's working on because she loves her work so much-

…

…Moana's really got it bad, doesn't she?

The GP swings by with a topical blood clotter and a mildly ominous, “You'll be wanting this.”

Watching fangs grow in is peculiar. Like really weird. Teeth should not be visibly longer after two hours.

On day five, Loto sort-of-not-really rouses, making pathetic little whiny grumbles and gazing soulfully, if glassy-eyed, at Moana. Moana grabs gauze and bandages, sits on the bed next to her, and steels herself.

There's a small pain as incisors nick the meaty part of her palm, and a fast-fading sting as Loto, still entranced, sucks at the wound. She feeds for maybe a minute before licking the cut a few times and dozing back off. Moana, lightheaded, applies the ointment from the GP, bandages the wound and dozes off herself.

She wakes up in a few hours with a headache, so she gets up and takes some of the iron supplements. Loto still isn't awake, so it's back to waiting.

Loto rouses again in the evening, still in the trance state. As she unwraps the bandage, Moana wonders how much longer it will be before she's awake.

Moana stays dozed off through the entire night this time. The next morning, Loto's awake.