[ there there november, maybe you can make the joke when the wound's a little less raw. he might actually laugh at it then. for now, he just sort of. vibrates in his own mood. he's thankful that there aren't any sort of iridescent bubbles around to trap them anymore at least, because he can't help but partially blame them for pushing him over the edge. ]
Finally.
[ there's relief here, floating in among the good mood that seems to sweep its way towards him. he furrows his brow a bit and rubs his head with his good hand (still bandaged, but usable). ]
Suppose only time will tell what's going to hit us next.
[ worry, niggling at the edges of his mood, chewing on it, then sinking its teeth in. anchoring. intensifying. ]
no subject
Finally.
[ there's relief here, floating in among the good mood that seems to sweep its way towards him. he furrows his brow a bit and rubs his head with his good hand (still bandaged, but usable). ]
Suppose only time will tell what's going to hit us next.
[ worry, niggling at the edges of his mood, chewing on it, then sinking its teeth in. anchoring. intensifying. ]