[ic; delusions]

[holysiscon]

*crouched in one of the isolated cornfields, down low so the drying stalks hide him from view. he's got his appledoll tucked in the crook of his arm, and he's humming to her (or is it with her?)--not the clockwork song, but a different lullaby, an old elven lullaby*

Comments

[holysiscon]

*he pauses.*

[holysiscon]

I--I'm sorry, sister.

[holysiscon]

He can't have you. None of them can, no matter what they try. We promised...

[holysiscon]

...he doesn't understand.

Nobody understands, even if they try.