Hushed Willows I wish I understood.

@Okeanos or @Mali or any kids preferably, but AW if someone else wants to scoop her up.

Ibis was up late (relatively speaking), finding it difficult to get comfortable in the communal den that the family had staked out. It wasn't nearly as crowded as the last place and that was good, but it was foreign, and no matter how many times she circled the dirt or what position she squished herself in to, it was too hot or too cold or too uncomfortable.

She was fussing for a while, until she decided on a whim to throw in the towel. Ibis carefully (but sleepily) stepped around any slumbering bodies as best she could on her way towards the cave entrance, and once she reached it she marched a few more steps and then slumped, sitting with her back against a slanting slab of rock.

The little girl shuddered when a small breeze crept through the willows. Her gaze traveled upwards to the stars, and as she sat there gawking at them she felt the stab of familiar homesickness.

it is only once they are settled that okeanos lets himself sniffle quietly,  not crying outright for fear of his mamas hearing him and asking, oke, what's wrong? he knows it is important for him to be strong and be brave, and he knows his mamas only do what is best for them, but the past few months of his life have been a confusing jumble. seeing papa brought back fresh confusion and sorrow that okeanos has not had time to work through. their move is, in a weird way, a relief of sorts, as disrupting as it is -- it is a distraction. focusing on protecting ibby (and by proxy, mali, since the rest of his family seems to have left) gives okeanos a way to channel his feelings.

he tracks ibis' movement across the den, holding his breath 'til she steps outside. carefully he extracts himself and makes to follow her, taking a quiet seat beside her as his own gaze trails star-ward. "pretty sky," he says softly, "looks the same from here, too."

She isn't outside very long before the cold starts to eat away at her, but before she gets to her feet and heads back inside—or even thinks to do so—a familiar body plops down next to her. Ibis doesn't need to look to know its her brother, but she feels a little guilty that she woke him. It didn't occur to her that Okeanos would be suffering in his own way; she was a very selfish little girl, but that came with the territory. Most children weren't aware of their feelings or how to deal with them and for Ibis, she was a bundle of overwhelming sensations that took immense energy to contain, let alone sort out. 

When Okee speaks, she doesn't. Instead she leans in to him and his warmth, deciding to be comforted by his presence rather than taking a stance against it. His words are innocuous enough, but she rallies her own voice and counters with, Wonner if daddy can see— but she feels her throat tighten quickly, and goes quiet. No, she won't talk about daddy.

She plunks her little chin on Okeanos' shoulder, and lets out a sigh that suited someone much older and world-weary. Do you think this is home? Or... Or will mommy make us go away again.

sorry! i completely lost track of time somehow

ibis is ibis -- it does not occur to okeanos whether or not she considers his feelings, nor, truthfully, would he care anyay. as she leans into him he smiles, fluffing up slightly, proud he can offer her some comfort in these trying times. "oh," he says softly as she starts to talk about papa -- surprised when she stops. oke thinks papa can see them too, and he finds that immensely comforting, remembering the few times he was brave enough to sneak out of the den to watch with him. stargazing will always carry some sort of home to it.

but his sister's next question is more pressing, and is one that the little sprite is ill-equipped to answer. he sighs too, letting his head rest atop hers, and hums. "dunno," he says at length, honestly, "but... i think anywhere i'm with you an' mama an' mama oly is home, even if the place keeps changin'." he pauses and adds, "'cause i can still see the stars." he wishes he could give ibis a better answer but -- but he's just a little boy making the best of a bad situation, same as any of them.

Its ok! Also brother is so CUTE.

The girl lets out a sigh too old for her years, it is a loaded moment. But it passes. Here beside Okeanos, while he speaks and he comforts her, Ibis feels a little bit better. She looks away from the stars and stares in to the empty abyss of the trees surrounding them, watching their tendrils with what minimal light there is available, and then she closes her eyes. Her chin is resting across Okeanos' shoulder, cheek-to-cheek almost, when he mentions their other mother.

Ibis doesn't know how she feels about Mother Oly, because she is not really mama, but mama likes her a lot and they both seem very happy. It doesn't bother her so much to have two mothers; but she hasn't spent as much time with Mother Oly and does not know why her brother makes a connection to her. She doesn't speak, though. Her voice is lulled to sleep while she sits there, content to just be with Okeanos. He'd never leave her.

ibby is silent after that, and while oke can't tell if she is comforted or not, he assumes she must feel a little bit better. pride swells in him that he can offer his sister a little reassurance -- more than the adults can, apparently. oke does not blame his mamas for the chaos but some of his babyish idolization of them has worn down. after all, it is adults that have caused so much uncertainty in his young life, and even if he thinks they are trying their best, it is clear their best may not be good enough.

it's an unsettling thought for the boy, and he turns a little to hide his nose against ibis' cheek. he doesn't speak aloud, afraid of disturbing her even as his own eyelids grow heavy, but he thinks to himself i wish i could 'member what papa said 'bout the stars...

it's his last thought before sleep overtakes him, resting noiselessly against his sister.

Before long the two children are dozing together. Ibis sits silently and listens to her brother's breathing, finding it more comforting than any other sound in her little life. The quiet of the willows is relaxing but nothing is quite the same without some aspect of her dear brother; when his breathing becomes so regular that she's sure he's asleep (or very close) she shifts as slowly and carefully as a child can, and leads him back towards the communal den. Once they're both situated there among the strangers that are their extended family, Ibis curls in to a bundle next to Okeanos and drifts off to sleep, her mind slowly ebbing its buzzing thoughts to nothingness. Her dreams are light, and she won't remember them by morning.