Hushed Willows i'm not uncomfortable feeling weird

hopin for an updated @Cam thread but aw! <3

atwood's obsession with getting away from his parents' watchful gaze is, as he learns more words, slowly replaced by an incessant need to chatter. he narrates his goings on, describes what he sees, takes delight in every new syllable captured on his tongue. running off alone doesn't hold the same appeal as trapping olive or seabreeze into an extended diatribe on the nature of a particularly pretty butterfly he saw, he finds, but there is still some pleasure in getting to explore. it's just that elysium is so, so pretty, and someone has to collect all the beautiful words to explain that.

might as well be him.

the baby blue of his eyes has finally begun to soften, taking on a greenish hue -- not dramatic, but strange to the boy, who is studying his reflection in a puddle with some intensity. they remind him of seabreezes, he thinks with some pleasure, and leads down to bump his nose against the puddle. today will be a good day.