ππππ ππππππ’ πππππππ ππ:a friend, I suppose This is forgotten but not lost. Parts have had our communication lines snipped free from the whole but we still exist, parallel, tangential, in this body's space. Some things are forgotten by one but held safe by another. We don't know how deep the cracks are that make us forget, but the body does. The body knows. The first one knows. The first one sees that we want to help you. What we mean is that you can rest here as long as you'd like: The child stands staring bug eyed while their neighbor, a teal by the name of Lucius ten sweeps their older, works on the internals of a scuttlebuggy's engine. The child is safe. They don't say anything, and Lucius fills the silence with easy explanation and conversation, this humming murmur that says that the child is seen, someone protected by trolls older and stronger than them, someone not expected to respond or perform conversation to still be wanted. They watch Lucius fixing gears and valves, and warm light fills the garage to the brim. The child hasn't spoken since their first lusus was--no matter. That memory stays in another vessel. This moment is about what happens afterwards. That in the cruelty and darkness of a small thing that could have been forgotten, was silent enough in hopes of being forgotten, there were adults (or close enough to adults) who knew the most important thing in the world was remembering the weakest. Lucius asks the child if they are alright, his smile unworried but caring. The child blinks and doesn't smile. It feels like a firm hug when Lucius accepts this answer and tells the child to pull his sleeve if they need him to stop and take them back hive. The child wants him to get back to talking about ignition and spark chambers. There is nowhere else they have to be. All is well. This feeling is kept safely stored away when the rest of us need it, even if we never remember being the child. It lingers like smoke. It's accepted and tuned out as easily as ground is forgotten underfoot. But it's still there. It's still bedrock. It's still the beginning of everything else important. We hope you can take a rest here with us too. How quaint... truly beautiful. πΌπππππ’ πππ
