The Sunspire oh, the weather outside is weather

Oaxaca was utterly unaware that there was a disturbance, so the first disturbance he registered was his mother lifting him and placing alongside Two, identifiable by hue in addition to her sweeter scent. She smelled like mama — they all did, but something about Two was different than One and Three. Her cold nose poked into the plush of Oaxaca’s side, having the effect of a deflating whoopee cushion; “wuhhh-huh-huh,” he huffed with something like a chuckle, his expression shifting from an open-mouthed expression of mirth to something resembling confused discomfort as she began to gum the side of his round apple head.

Um.

His head tilted to the side, his pinched facial features screwing further as he tried to decide whether or not he liked this — but the sensation was over before he could really get a handle on it. One tiny turtle flipper jerked up, displaying a spectacular lack of coordination, as he bopped himself in the nose trying to wipe away the wet feeling. Now that her mouth wasn’t affixed to his skull, the gummed area felt cold and lonely. A few beats behind, he began his own leisurely sojourn — and when One split the cloudy silence with an underwater-sounding wail, he picked up his head in surprise but kept at his snail-steady pace.

It was unfortunate that Oaxaca’s trajectory put him directly in the line of one hell of a face-rearranging à la Séamus. He was three right hooks in when he finally spoke up about it. “Whoooa,” he commented, lifting a paw and slowly, inexorably trying to push his toe beans up his brother’s nose or into his mouth to stop the barrage. “Sorry, man, you mind? I’ve hit my face-smacking quota, but you can try again tomorrow, yeah?”