[ Perception — reality — trickles through in drips and drabs. Hearing's still funky, fuzzy and throbbing, strangled out by the coil whine — no, the ringing. No chips or wires or code; they're flesh and blood and that was a panic attack. Sh…hhhhhey? they, yes, they shake their head a little without lifting it. Draws in a deeper breath, coaxing and soothing their tight throat and burning chest, You know how to do this. You can do it.
It takes a hot minute. … Another hot minute, on top of however long it's already been. Oh well. There's no rushing soup. Papa is right there and Lucifer is safe; they don't have to try to rush.
They rediscover their fingers. Tap, wiggle, flex. Their hands. Tap, wiggle, flex. Leverage themself up slowly, gingerly, a little at a time, inch by inch, from total face-on-table faceplant to face-on-arms, up up up until they're mostly sitting upish. They're still all droopy and visibly out of step of step with the body they're working to settle into, blinking and squinting like a sleep-drunk owl. (It probably does not help that their glasses are lopsided.) ]
Whh. [ Blink. Blink. ] Wh. [ Phbbbt. C'mon, words. They shake their head again, and as they do so blue — the same shade as Korone's eyes — bleeds across their hair from root to tip. ]
We - [ yes!! ] 'rrr, we're - [ YEAAAAH ] here. N'thoup — no, s'soupy, we're here n' soupy. Heylo, Papa, Luci-oji …
[ Their shadow waves brightly! Cheerfully! Hello!! ]
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branchandroot
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Date: 2025-05-29 07:52 pm (UTC)It takes a hot minute. … Another hot minute, on top of however long it's already been. Oh well. There's no rushing soup. Papa is right there and Lucifer is safe; they don't have to try to rush.
They rediscover their fingers. Tap, wiggle, flex. Their hands. Tap, wiggle, flex. Leverage themself up slowly, gingerly, a little at a time, inch by inch, from total face-on-table faceplant to face-on-arms, up up up until they're mostly sitting upish. They're still all droopy and visibly out of step of step with the body they're working to settle into, blinking and squinting like a sleep-drunk owl. (It probably does not help that their glasses are lopsided.) ]
Whh. [ Blink. Blink. ] Wh. [ Phbbbt. C'mon, words. They shake their head again, and as they do so blue — the same shade as Korone's eyes — bleeds across their hair from root to tip. ]
We - [ yes!! ] 'rrr, we're - [ YEAAAAH ] here. N'thoup — no, s'soupy, we're here n' soupy. Heylo, Papa, Luci-oji …
[ Their shadow waves brightly! Cheerfully! Hello!! ]