baby’s first sand

Araneae squeals as Wylan sends up a spray of water in their direction, pulling an outraged face as it settles in cold little droplets across their face. practically burning with curiosity, Araneae scrambles eagerly after Wylan, shaking the water from their pelt and lending them a rather porcupine air. this state only worsens as they accept the towel Wylan offers, running it impatiently over their fur. the resulting effect is comically chaotic, especially when paired with their excited, wide-eyed gaze. “what’s your mum like?” they prod, discarding the towel. it’s like a hunger within them, a yearning greed to learn the family dynamics of others – to digest them so that it might fill the empty chasm That Woman had torn open when she’d left. “is she nice?”
distracted by the challenge issued, Araneae pushes aside this melancholia and tears off after Wylan, able to forget their problems with the ease of childish fickleness – at least for now. “hey, no fair – you had a head start!”

"Speech"