Got the dreamer's disease
She leans easily into the shape that comes to fill the space beside her, both arms circling about the neck of her father and tilting her weight into him as if accustomed still to being held. Her fingers splay into the dark fur, barely visible as they curl faintly into him. This form of his has always been her favorite, especially when waking in the middle of the night, his shape curled up nearby had been enough comfort sometimes to tip her back into slumber.
Her head bobs in confirmation to her mother, and she glances over to ensure she is also coming, eager for them both to understand. Surely, they need only see the poor creature to feel the same, although Ever’s hackles are proof otherwise. ”Yeah, do you see it?!” There’s a climbing urgency, as if the potential might escape if Isla delays too long.
Fortunately, her mother sandwiches her, the sear cat still visible in it’s explorations of the ground beyond. ”No!” Fern insists, head turning from the window back up to Isla, her grip tightening unintentionally against Ever. ”What if he can’t? What if he’s starving?” She turns back to the window quickly, wide eyes finding the slinking shape at once. A pout settles subtly when Isla tries to steer the topic away, protest climbing. ”I could teach him to fetch,” she grumbles, as if this is the crux of the issue.
Her head bobs in confirmation to her mother, and she glances over to ensure she is also coming, eager for them both to understand. Surely, they need only see the poor creature to feel the same, although Ever’s hackles are proof otherwise. ”Yeah, do you see it?!” There’s a climbing urgency, as if the potential might escape if Isla delays too long.
Fortunately, her mother sandwiches her, the sear cat still visible in it’s explorations of the ground beyond. ”No!” Fern insists, head turning from the window back up to Isla, her grip tightening unintentionally against Ever. ”What if he can’t? What if he’s starving?” She turns back to the window quickly, wide eyes finding the slinking shape at once. A pout settles subtly when Isla tries to steer the topic away, protest climbing. ”I could teach him to fetch,” she grumbles, as if this is the crux of the issue.
Fern
This world is gonna pull through, don't give up
