The Sunspire oh, the weather outside is weather

Mama @Olive [and sister Eleuthera], brother @Séamus, and whoever else would be allowed near the den. Oaxaca gets functioning eyeballs today!

The calico caterpillar lounged across his mother’s dainty wrist in a languid sprawl, flexing his paws and peering at them with ever-widening eyes. His erstwhile sealed lids had been sundered by thin, asymmetrical slivers of misty blue, and through these slivers he could appreciate a growing, if blurry, dreamscape of light and color. He took his newfound eyesight in stride and silence, as was his wont, but perhaps Olive had already noticed. It took him some time before he sought to draw attention to himself — he was too busy cataloging his world in this brand new way. He realized that One was quite pale while Two was noticeably darker, a fact that he learned and relearned whenever they were sat beside one another.

Really, what he knew and didn’t know was, at this point, quite nebulous.

Lifting his head and cranking it back at what seemed a very uncomfortable angle but was actually quite nice [heads were heavy old things], the boy commented, “Ah,” in his light, babyish tenor. Lest she misunderstand him, “Ama. Ahhh,” he expounded. Then he patted his tiny paw against her wrist as though to reassure her — a gesture that was purely reflexive, but coincidentally communicated his easygoing nature. “All good, mama. No worries.”