Mateo
"Oh, hallo birdy." Mateo's voice sounds a little far away, in part because he's actually tangled bodily in some roots directly above the aviator, but also because it's been a little bit since he ate or drank anything, and he's pretty sure he's sprained or broken his ankle. (He neither knows nor cares). "What are you doing down here?"
The fact that the botanist is both coherent and relatively cheerful by a normal person's standards is something of a miracle, because he's considered in recent hours what it might be like to struggle free of the roots, bounce against a few outcrops of stone, and take flying into his own hands. He might spontaneously become an Attuned with a flighted shift, right?
The fact that the botanist is both coherent and relatively cheerful by a normal person's standards is something of a miracle, because he's considered in recent hours what it might be like to struggle free of the roots, bounce against a few outcrops of stone, and take flying into his own hands. He might spontaneously become an Attuned with a flighted shift, right?
I wanna wake up
Can't even tell if this is a dream
Can't even tell if this is a dream
