I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve

Koa

I'm the king, and you're the queen
and we will stumble through heaven

"Language," Koa scolds her gently, without any amount of bite in his voice. It's more reflexive than anything, and he finds himself comforted by the mundanity of it, the normalcy of a sibling relationship crafted and perfected over eighteen years. Here is a woman the boy can rely on, even if he hates the idea of putting any of his grief on her. Since the fall of their mother Koa has carefully held the burden of their family on his shoulders, trying to keep Noe's spirit light, his father's health intact; an Atlas of the Carpenter family.

It feels good to let some go, if only for a night.

There's a schriip! of fabric as the plush dragon gives way, his seams finally splitting beneath prying fingers (and isn't it just poetic, the symbolism of that?). Koa's response is to look stricken, absolutely shocked by the consequences of his actions as fluffy innards peek out through the wound he's torn in his old toy. "I broke Fang," he says blankly, dumbly, as mournful as a child - and then those plaintive, puppy-dog eyes turn to his sister, the already-patched plush outstretched. "We need surgery, Doctor No." It's an old game, where he played nurse to her skillful surgeon, and many toys and hours had been sacrificed to it in their youth.

If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight

{/code}