001 - If I Keep Looking Forward I Won't Fall Back [Vault]

[purplexing]

I. The Armory
Donnie hasn't talked about the last mission. He hasn't talked much to anyone. Not entirely strange, but then nor is his preoccupation with work. At the moment he's taking a break from fixing up the armors that had been acquired during the taking of Hesaeth, working instead on more personal weapons. Or in this case, repairing them.

His staff is in pieces. Normally it collapses into something discreet enough to carry, but some of those pieces have very obvious indentations, damage sustained from the encounter with Lord Gundhir's son. The turtlekin picks up one of the cylindrical segments, holding it up in closer inspection. Repairing it would be possible although he'd likely have to reforge some pieces, but what good would it be if it would still essentially break under pressure?

...

Pushing aside an errant thought, Donnie sets the piece down, pulling out his notebook and a folded sheet of paper from within, flattening it out. The original designs for his collapsible staff, and extra notations for other additions to it. It still needs to be sturdier, but lighter too, especially if he plans to include more capabilities.

He doesn't look up at whoever approaches, only barely hearing the footsteps thanks to the mufflers he always tends to wear, especially down here where there's just so much noise. "Hey, know if there's any scrap titanium I can use?"


II. Subterranean Farms
Tucked away from the main fields and nestled in a smallish nook along the carved out walls, the little garden can easily be overlooked if one isn't paying attention to the strange, spiraling growth of vines dotted with small purple flowers that have started to crawl along the edges of the rock there. That's as far as Donnie's allowed them to grow, always taking care to trim them back before they can get out of hand.

He's rigged his own little light source here, simultaneously taking advantage of where crevices throw shadows across the space to allow for all kinds of plants to be cultivated. At a glance they're definitely more of a decorative sort than to be used for food, but he wouldn't advise eating most of these anyway. There are many flowers and herbs, and even a few types of fungi that grow within the natural rock 'shelves' of the flanking walls.

The turtlekin can be found tending to his beloved plants, removing any dead leaves, carefully watering the flowerbeds or tilling a patch of dirt in preparation for planting something new.


III. The Library
The library's become as much of a retreat as any, and in particular Donnie liked to hide away here because of how much quieter it is compared to other areas of the Vault.

He had come here to do some research but the peacefulness of the area paired with poor sleep has managed to lull him into an unscheduled naptime. Hopefully you didn't need that book he's currently using as a pillow, but be forewarned; he's a drooler.

Comments

[singlemilletgrain]

She brings her face close to the flower and inhales gently - or is it an exhalation? The flower’s petals stir and when she pulls away, it seems to stand a little more upright, a little more firm. Shu strokes it gently with two fingers before straightening up.

“The world turns and turns. People come and go with the changing of the seasons. An inevitability… I did not notice it so much when I was younger, being self-absorbed and childish. Now it happens too often to pay much mind.

“Plants are strange. Much more short-lived than people and much more care required, in some ways. Yet reliably, year after year, they return, restoring life and splendor to the earth. In my time, I feel I can understand my crops far more than I understand human beings. They are… easier. Sunlight and water, nutrients and care. People have so many needs I cannot help - that they themselves do not understand.”

This speech does not seem entirely related to what Donnie just said. It is as if she is responding to something different altogether - a habit of hers oft-leading to accusations of vagueness or cryptic babble. But she turns to him now with an inquiring expression.

“Tell me about your Innistis plants.”

[purplexing]

"...."

He's quiet as she speaks, and even if it might seem like what Shu says has nothing to do with anything she'd asked him about, her words still touch upon things he can much relate to.

Plants are easier to understand. They don't feel anything or expect something from you. They've grown and existed fine on their own, and even if they weren't necessarily the same ones you saw between one season and the last, their kind still throve so long as the climate or the terrain didn't change drastically. In cases like these, they just need a little help, some adjustments that the plant themselves can't make to environment. But they don't know they can't exist under such circumstances otherwise. They don't know or worry about what might happen if things suddenly changed.

Donnie pulls out of his thoughts with some effort, like he'd been submersing himself in the sea. It's all too easy for him to get lost in thought. Plants have it easy.

"I don't know if some of them have other names," he admits, turning his focus back to the present and the plants that surround them. He hasn't seen many books on botany, and even less that catalogued a lot of the plants that he'd grown up around. But most of the people that wrote books didn't go traipsing in the wilds if they could help it. He figures those that did write about plants must have been considered strange in Imperial society.

"I call these Fire Roots," he says as he points out some almost coral-like growths, tinted at the tips in bright pink-red that gradiated into a softer orange as it darkened into greens and browns at the root. "And the vines with the flowers on the wall are Silent Alarms. The flowers are sensitive when something touches them, they close up for about five minutes. Usually the vines grow everywhere they can get into, and in the forest if you saw a lot of them closed up, then you knew someone or something had passed by pretty recently." He allows himself a smirk. "That's how I'd sometimes find some of my brothers if we were playing those hiding games."

[singlemilletgrain]

“You have imagination.”

She admires what he has pointed out, outstretching a hand that doesn’t quite reach the Silent Alarm. “I have heard worse names.” This particular blossom is spotlighted by one of the growing lights and gleams a vivid indigo-violet in the gloom of the underground, one of many blooms along the same length of vine. Shu bends to search for its origin and its roots somewhere along the cavern wall.

“You must have many such memories associated with the plants here. I would have liked to see more of my siblings when I was young.”

Even Ji had gone away in so short a period of time, captivated by the work of that clever merchant.

“May I take a clipping?”

[purplexing]

Flowers and plants in shades of purples are rather numerous in this garden, but there are bright splashes of reds and oranges among them, and soft blues distinct enough to contrast with the violet tones.

Donnie settles into a seated position so he can pull his knees in close, nodding as he looks at a particular patch of flowers that he'd purposely integrated the four main colors into, surrounding a piece of driftwood he'd found during one of their Flotsam visitations. "Yeah..." he says quietly. Every plant here was attached to a memory in some way. Sometimes he wonders if he's just tormenting himself, but he can't imagine not having this garden.

"Go ahead," he says, nodding. He knows any of his plants would be in good hands with Shu.

[singlemilletgrain]

She is prepared, as she always is. Whether she intended to make this request from the start or whether she simply carries hand pruners with her, Shu retrieves a pair from her overalls and carefully searches the end of the vine. When she finds an appropriate section, she trims the leaves and cleans the debris from around the node, carefully clipping off a few inches above the root.

"Thank you. I will treasure it."

The tiny cutting is cupped in her gloved hands. She has nowhere else to put it. Despite finishing her task, she does not turn yet to look at Donnie.

"You are right. Plants are resilient. But each individual dies easily without the correct parameters. It is the species that persists on. This plant cutting could very well propagate into thousands and thousands of offshoots that populate parts of Esthere we will never see."

'Here she goes again' would be the words that accompany the groan of the Old Tianshi.

"People do not have that luxury. We cannot just die and hope for the best for our species. And that is why... when the parameters do not fit us, we struggle so hard. We struggle so that we might live. We adapt - or are forced to adapt. We change in ways we may not like. We grow at great costs we might not be able to pay.

"...These are difficult parameters for you."

If Donnie suspects at this point that Shu has been talking about him this whole time in veiled metaphors, he would not be wrong.

[purplexing]

"...heh." It takes some work to force a laugh, the sound just as strained as the fragile smile on his face. Is he that obvious? Then again he doubts that it'd take much to figure that out.

Donnie pulls his arms tighter around his knees. Yes, he'd suspected as much, but once she clearly assigns it to him, it just feels like the world around him tries to push in, putting pressure on the tiny little bubble of space he might have been occupying this whole time.

He'd thought he'd get used to it. Indeed there are aspects of joining the Corsairs that he's been glad to be exposed to; the chance to learn things like how to read and to be able to work on more complex machinery than a broken lamp or a steam engine, and to travel in those big old airships that he and his brothers had only been able to watch as they passed high above whenever some noble made way to Elysium. But there's a lot that he doesn't know if he'd ever get used to, and plenty of parts he hopes he won't have to.

A bloodied face intrudes his mind, eyes wide with rage and shock. He squeezes his own eyes shut as though that would blot out the memory, his nails biting into his skin as his fingers curl more tightly around his arms.

[singlemilletgrain]

His forced laugh echoes dully, the sound echoing against the wall of the cavern where he grows his vines. Shu still keeps her attention directed on the blossoms, allowing him an illusion of privacy to express whatever emotions are working through his mind. She does not speak again until she is certain there is nothing he wants to say.

“People are different in other ways, too. If the environment is unsuitable, that environment can change.”

She does not think that Donnie wants to quit the Corsairs, nor does she imagine that this conversation will inspire him to do so. Perhaps she envisions something more subtle. At last she turns to look down at the boy with steady, placid eyes, her gaze so pellucid that it seems as if he is mirrored within them.

“Tell me what is on your mind.”

Though phrased as a command, it is so gentle that it seems more an invitation. Though prone to philosophical meanderings, she is shockingly direct when it fits the need.

[purplexing]

There's no specific label for any of the emotions that swirl within his head. He has no idea how to separate them, they're just one giant lump of awful so far as he's aware. But if there's one thing he's certain of, it's that he's afraid to speak. There's a thin wall between that maelstrom and everything else and he feels like it might break at any moment, and there's no convenient place to hide so no one can see when it happens.

His eyes are still closed when Shu continues to speak. Part of him wishes she'd leave, but even so, he knows he'd rather she didn't. Being alone might be even worse.

Donnie breathes out a heavy sigh, forcing his fingers to ease from his arms, burying his face behind those arms instead. For a while it doesn't seem like he's inclined to respond.

"I didn't know anything..."

This quiet admission is what breaches the silence, four simple words that hold so much behind them.

"The Empire, the Corsairs... They existed in an entirely different world than the one I've ever known. Father kept it simple when he talked about the Empire. He said they dwelled in the skies, and that so long as we stayed where we were, we'd be safe. He was trying to keep us safe."

Eventually he lifts his head just enough to see over his arms, looking at the colorful blooms. He doesn't have anything to remember his family by, so this has become the closest thing.

[singlemilletgrain]

She gives a simple nod of acknowledgment, taking a few steps across the garden before reaching his side. When she sinks down beside him, she seats herself on her knees and folds her hands on her lap, allowing her gaze to drift outwards in the direction of the underground fields. She will not force eye contact again for the remainder of their conversation.

"In so doing, he bestowed upon you an arcadian childhood and the peaceful passage of the years. That was his desire."

She could understand the sentiment. So, too, she knows, would many parents make the same choice, eager to maintain stability in a world of ever-encroaching ruin, keeping their eyes averted from the future.

"Peacefulness is not a weakness. Gentleness and sensitivity are not vices. In a world where such things are not valued, you may forget that is the case."

[purplexing]

His gaze flicks in her direction, even if he can barely see her on the other side of his arms. But she's there and he knows it, and that's all that matters, isn't it?

Maybe there is actually something to that saying that ignorance is bliss... What Shu says is true enough, now that he's able to look back at it. He just wishes he wasn't able to do so. The turtlekin nods quietly at her observation. His father had made it sound like his coliseum days had been exciting and fulfilling. And maybe to a point it was... But he'd left out how horrible Imperials could be. Maybe that's why he'd really left those so-called glory days. Retirement indeed.

But he'd been happy enough. They'd all been happy enough. Until curiosity got the better of them. And none of them were more curious than Donnie.

"...I messed up," he admits. "He told us not to, but...we followed him to Elysium one day. He'd go to get some supplies, sometimes treats for us. Things the Imperials threw away. He got mad at us when he caught us, but then he compromised and would let us go if we were careful, so long as we didn't go alone and made sure never to be seen. ...and we were good at that. And I guess we thought we'd never get caught, and there were so many new and exciting things to find."

[singlemilletgrain]

Shu keeps quiet through this admission. One didn’t need to be prescient to imagine what happened next, but it was his story to tell at his pace. There was no particular goal to this conversation save to allow Donnie the chance to confront and process his emotions, an action he desperately (and transparently) needed. Long experience had taught her that there were few pieces of advice she could give that were more worthwhile than the solutions already buried within a turbid mind. They only needed some clarity to rise to the surface.

It had been a simple task, at first meeting, to observe that this was a mind with an intellectual bent, one that, like many of its ilk, wrapped itself into tortured convolutions of ‘what ifs’ and ‘and thens’ if allowed. It was also a stated fact of life that teenagers had remarkably undeveloped emotional regulation. The combination of such things resulted in historically poor outcomes and so it was that Shu expected, at some point, to intervene in hopes of interrupting this downwards spiral.

That it was happening today was simply because she suspected chopping off an arm had hastened that spiral.

When he pauses, she nods encouragingly for him to go on. She suspects the next portion is more difficult to relive.

[purplexing]

In a way, it was a resumption of the first conversation they'd had. Donnie had been reluctant to share details then, and he still had his reservations now, but these last couple of missions had really pushed him into uncomfortable corners. He's still unwilling to admit to himself Lord Gundhir's son's fate, even if it seems clear what the outcome had been given all the circumstances.

Shu says nothing, and the turtlekin takes the time to pick his way on this rocky figurative path. He's never talked to anyone about it, and none of the Corsairs had asked, thankfully, for too many details when they'd saved him.

"The Imperials are so wasteful. I liked salvaging the junkheaps by the coliseum- I think they had some kind of steamcart races, so sometimes I could find interesting pieces of machinery. I learned a lot from them. And I wanted to learn more." His mistake for pushing his luck, for not being satisfied with what he'd been able to do, but then...would that have been enough? Donnie knows the answer to that, and he's only glad that his mistake hadn't also pulled any of his brothers in. At least, he hoped not, but he'd been careful not to mention any of his family when-

"I was caught." His snout wrinkles in self-deprecation. "The Empire doesn't like theft, even if it involves things they don't care for anymore. But...they were curious about why I was taking such things, they found out I was good at understanding how they worked and I could pick up on it pretty quickly, otherwise." Touching on these matters always stoked that familiar heat, the same he'd held onto and fed when he saw Shu being grabbed by Adolfus.

"They said I'd be helping people."

[singlemilletgrain]

She breaks her silence to quietly affirm what is so difficult for him to explore.

"It is a harsh lesson -- being taken advantage of."

An enemy with whom you crossed swords was easy. Inflicting harm on that individual, generally speaking, led to a resolution of the problem, and emotions were pure and uncomplicated. Infinitely more complex was the knowledge that you had served as an enemy to your own beliefs and values, compromising the core of what you were. From the start, Shu had sensed a measure of... perhaps too strong a term, but self-hatred buried within Donnie's responses. She remembers the contorted expressions when they had first discussed his past, ones that betrayed more than simple wistfulness or sorrow.

"...You blame yourself."

This is as much a statement as it is a question.

[purplexing]

His expression wavers at that. Shu certainly doesn't beat around the bush. Donnie seeks refuge behind his arms again, his posture tightening up again as though he could compact himself into a ball, away from everything.

There's no verbal response then, but he gives a single nod. There's so much he blames himself for, a litany of wrong decisions just because he'd thought he'd known better.

"...I wanted to fix things. I still want to fix things, but...I don't know if I can."

A foolish, arrogant Donatello had thought he could make things that could help the Empire's people, help everyone. A repentant, desperate Donatello joined the Corsairs once they'd liberated him, wanting to make right what he could when the Empire used his design ideas for weapons. But there's still a sad, lost Donatello that would love nothing more than to return to his family, but he can't and he won't because he doesn't want to pull them into everything that he's gotten caught up in.

[singlemilletgrain]

As he balls himself up and tries to shut himself out from the world, Shu regards his rigid position from the corner of her eye. There is a moment's pause before a soft, barely perceptible touch descends on his shoulder. It steadies there, and through this tactile sensation, Donnie can feel the gentle rhythm of Shu's breathing. Up and down... in and out... loose and tight... It is not too terribly exaggerated, but somehow, it seems as if her own breathing is cycling through him. In this way, it seems she is encouraging him to take deeper, calmer breaths.

It is impossible to face the demons when you are putting up so many walls.

"...If I said there was nothing to fix... would you believe me?"

He will not. She says it anyway.

"Many of us labored to create goods for their military. Is that different from your own situation? You will say you did it of your own accord, but... if you had refused, they would have impelled it regardless. It is no shame to survive."

[purplexing]

Betrayed by a sniffle, Donnie stubbornly remains in his tense little position for a while. He can feel it, Shu's hand, her breathing. It's hard to get a decent breath when you're clamped up like a clam, but he makes a ragged attempt anyway, not entirely sure that he trusts he won't just break down sobbing, but he'll fight that one down as much as he can.

To her question, he says nothing. Of course he doesn't believe her. There's always something to fix. He's prided himself on fixing things, just not...intangible problems, those are so much harder than machinery.

Shu's right; he knows this. After what he's seen of the Empire firsthand, he knows that they would have made him do worse things. He shudders at the thought, hand slipping to rub at where a suppression band had once been fixed.

"...should I be here?"

It's not that he doesn't have an answer for this. But at the same time, he wants an honest opinion, because he's been asking himself that. It used to be easier to answer.

[singlemilletgrain]

She allows a lighthearted chuckle to escape, the barest release of tension.

"You asked me that already. Or a very similar question."

Back then, she had politely said that she could not give an answer. No one could give an answer besides the person he least wanted to hear from. But in this moment, she recognizes that her previous response would be wholly insufficient. Her hand will slip from his shoulder to rest on his hand if he allows.

"But I will say ...I am glad you are here."

It has been over one thousand years since she has attained sapience. In those one thousand years, there have been ten thousand youths. In those ten thousand youths, there have been one hundred thousand doubts, one hundred thousand worries, one hundred thousand anxieties, one hundred thousand fears. And yet to this very day, she remembered each and every one of them.

For Shu was an immortal, but even immortals needed purpose. In some ways, immortals needed purpose far more than those they guided. There was no reason to live this long, no reason to watch everything and everyone she cared for pass into the earth, if she did not. Each and every person she met was engraved upon her heart. And if some of them were alike, and if some of them had the same kinds of problems, and if some of them even said the exact same words...

Why, how much more wonderful it was to know that the human heart was connected in that way across a millennium.

And so she never did find it tedious and she never did grow sick of caring. And here, in a time and place that was -- if she admitted it to herself -- frightening and uncertain even for her and her newfound not-quite-as-immortal state of being, this familiarity of purpose brought her ease. It had comforted her at the dining table. It had driven her through their mission. And it is in her heart now, as she sits beside a broken-hearted turtlekin and holds his hand.

If he presses, she will give an opinion. But in some ways... the answer she gave betrayed her thoughts already. Because the only reason to stay in a place was if you felt kinship there, wasn't it?

[purplexing]

While Donnie doesn't completely loosen himself up, some of that tension relaxes, if just ever so slightly. He still hugs his knees, but he doesn't shy away from the hand that moves to rest over his own. That in itself has become a familiar enough gesture, one that would speak volumes for how comfortable he's gotten with her if she only knew how much he prized his personal space.

He still hasn't really managed to mimic Shu's breathing patterns but he'd been trying his best when they weren't interrupted by a pesky sniffle. The answer Shu gives isn't what he expects, but somehow he feels it's better than a more straight forward one.

He can't just walk away from this, he knows that. But... if at least one person is glad that he's here, then that's enough, isn't it? And there are others, certainly, that he knows he can't just turn his back on, knowing so many of them don't have any feasible means of returning home. Not until they do something about the Empire...

His hand pulls back, just slightly, if only to reposition itself over hers, fingers curling lightly around it, taking comfort in not being alone.

[singlemilletgrain]

They sit comfortably like that for a time.

Shu watches the imperceptible movements of the flowers and the fungi. It brings her peace (surprising nobody) to observe the natural processes of the earth. Even far underground, nature thrived. Subterranean beetles crawled across the petals of the flowers in their pollination activities, causing the blooms to shudder gently. Ants and other barely visible bugs cut little pieces of moss away to bring home to their tunnels, a stream of motion if one unfocused the eyes in just the right way. The world continues on in the same way it always has, repeating the story of one thousand years.

And here, too, she sees the future, echoed in ten thousand youths she had once cared for. A broken heart heals and gains strength. A boy matures into a man. Uncertainty becomes resolution; anxiety becomes conviction.

That image fades. It was a long time hence.

Right now, right here, in this moment, there are two souls who give each other a little of what they need to continue on.

"..."

Shu thoughtfully hums after enough time has passed.

"Also, it is possible I would be dead without you here, so there is also that."

And that would have been unfortunate, because she had only just died and resurrected last month, and she had found it extremely trying, notwithstanding the possibility of not resurrecting here at all.

[purplexing]

Donnie may not be very good at meditation or clearing his thoughts, but this is the closest he's ever managed, just sitting there, finding peace in the moment and the company. For once he doesn't let his thoughts get caught up in any particular focus, the world in front of him a smear of colors, shapes and subtle floral scents.

No, his problems haven't been magically solved and past experiences don't just disappear, but he feels a little lighter than he's been feeling in weeks, and that's enough for him. A different perspective had been offered, and something he'd definitely needed.

The turtlekin lifts his head a bit when Shu finally breaks the silence, glancing over at her. It's kind of a morbid point, true as it is, and it's hard to tell whether that's a sob or a laugh just then as he drops his forehead against his arms, but the groan that follows is quite clear.

"Please don't do that again. -not that you meant to, but..." He sucks in a breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

[singlemilletgrain]

"I will try my utmost."

Her response is lighthearted, in keeping with the atmosphere she is trying to promote. She considers, for a infinitesimally brief moment, confiding some of her own more private feelings about what happened but decides it isn't the right time. The focus should remain on the care of her companion. She will be fine, as she always has been. Her next words are carefully chosen to lead away from the more difficult topics, though they seem casual on the surface. There are only so many emotions one can process in a short period of time.

"To think I would grow so slow in my reflexes. Such is the curse of old age." Shu looks maybe 30 at worst. "If I cook more food for you, will you look after me in my dotage?"

((just a heads-up since we've been doing a bit of boomeranging that I'm heading to bed for the night, thanks for the threading!))

[purplexing]

As much as Donnie would have liked to backtrack away from being the focus- huh, not wanting to have all the attention for a change? What middle-child nonsense is this? -this particular subject isn't exactly a happy alternative. He'd been genuinely terrified that his new friend would have died, and it hadn't been a pleasant feeling to swallow. All the more reason for him to turn it into something he knew how to deal with, or at least he thought he did. And in the end it at least had helped Shu and they'd made their escape. That's...that's what mattered right?

It's what he wants to believe.

He peers over his arm at her again, making a face. "Please, father's like, twice as old as you and complains about his back all the time but he still moves lightning fast somehow." That's to hide his embarrassment at Shu's proposal, whether in jest or not. He knows she can take perfectly good care of herself, or at least was used to doing so. But this isn't her home, things are different for her.

Donnie lifts his head to better look at her.

"I'd have your back with or without the extra promise of food." Because that's just what comrades and friends do, isn't it? And here so far from his own, they're the next closest thing to family, and he wouldn't let anything happen to them so long as he's able to.


((OOC: *Salutes!* Good night! Or morning as you're likely already off to bed!))

[singlemilletgrain]

“Twice as old? He must have excellent self cultivation practices.”

She has a laugh at her own private joke.

“I have never been lightning fast, so I will be relying on you.” The best she usually manages is maybe a brisk trot. She was not the running type. “But be assured I will also keep watch over you. I am usually… more reliable.”

This is as far as she will get towards admitting that something had been terribly off that day. At least now she knows. And she will adjust accordingly. Shu seldom repeated mistakes in her long life and had no intention of ever doing so again in a situation that placed her companions in harm’s way.

“Speaking of.” Shu meets Donnie’s eyes with a faint frown. “I cannot help noticing in our time of acquaintance… Do you have warmer clothes?”

Has Donnie ever considered wearing pants

[purplexing]

"The only thing he cultivates is his stomach," Donnie says flatly. He loves his father very much, which is why he can say such things.

Those certainly aren't empty words that Shu speaks, and they're not phrased to suggest he can't take care of himself. Donnie manages to smile a little at that, nodding. He doesn't doubt that Shu is reliable. He doesn't know how well she usually carries herself in battles but even though there's much he doesn't know about her, he remembers distinctly the expression on her face when Adolfus had almost run her through. It spoke of so much, suggested that things had gone horribly Wrong somehow. He never wants to see that look on her ever again.

"Hm?" he blinks then, unsure what to make of that frown then. "Yes?" Is it because he usually prefers not to wear much? He starts to frown as well. "I have clothes! It gets cold on airships! It's just...sometimes annoying to wear during some missions."

[singlemilletgrain]

“Hm.”

Shu allows a noncommittal hum with a vague note of skepticism. She has seen the kinds of things that are in fashion with the Youths. Donnie just takes the ripped pants style one step further by having only holes and no pants, probably. There may come a terrible sense of foreboding that he is about to be subject to more care than was strictly desired in the form of ugly sweaters and long cotton underwear, though this will have to wait until Shu can figure out how to make ugly sweaters that fit his shell.

She has some ideas.

“Autumn is on the horizon. Take care to dress for the weather so you don’t catch cold.” Squeezing Donnie’s hand lightly, she releases him and stands, carefully balancing the cutting in her palm. “And now I must put this in water lest it wither.”

As she turns away, she calls out seemingly to the open fields before them.

“In a river village inn, old friends chance to meet.
When autumn moon is once more full.
We put aside our doubts and dreams
And huddle together
Wishing the morning bell would never come.”