action and text; @bacura

[mellowyellow]

[It's late on the seventh when Masaomi wakes up on a church pew. At first, he can't bring himself to do anything other than stare at his hands. Slowly he raises them above his head, takes in the palms, flips them over, hesitantly touches the backs, slides his fingers down his own arms.

He's whole.

Suddenly, he digs his nails in. It hurts, and he pulls back, leaving harsh red marks. Masaomi sits up then, still staring like he can't believe his own senses.

He's not crying. You're crying.]


[It's not until the eighth that he sends out another text. No ominous snapshots this time.]

Didn't cut it as a carny.

Comments

[mellowyellow]

Uh- yeah. I guess.

[Thrown by this particularly unexpected development, Masaomi can't even bring himself to argue. He drags his feet through the door frame and out into the hall.

Do alien grandpa dragons even like sweets? He's never thought about anything like this before. He's never thought he'd be herded down into the dining area by a very paternal monster either.

Just before he reaches the stairwell, he stops, turns back to Stone.]

What do you eat?

[scarsolderthanyou]

[Alien grandpa dragons love sweets, don't worry, Masaomi. He looks vaguely amused at the question.]

Anything you eat. I need more meat than a human would, from what I can tell, being primarily a hunting species, but I can eat anything I want to.

[mellowyellow]

Woah. Uh, good to know.

[Okay, he'll obediently descend the staircase now and even slide into the kitchen. He's just nabbed the perfect distraction: teaching alien grandpa dragon the wonders of jello.]