#askcrumpet

[askcrib]

"Crumpet!"

Crib lets out a slow sigh of relief, careful not to singe his clothes further with a heavier breath. It's good to have him back in her arms again; she hugs him back just as tight. Several months of worry leaks out of her vocalizer.

"We didn't know where you went, 'm so glad you're okay; Gran disappeared on us and we couldn't get any letters to you, even a'fore you stopped writing."

A month between letters hadn't been concerning. Two was troubling, and when she called to check for mail at two and a half-- by that point, anything could have happened. The thought of coming back and finding him dead or in pieces had terrified her.  

She braces herself, pulling him back just enough to look at him.

"Sorry we were not here sooner," she says quietly, ashamed and fighting the urge to flinch away and flinch at her own words. "I do not have an excuse. By the time I realized how long it had been, I-- I was afraid. What happened?"

[askcrib]

If I could say anything t' Miss Crib, I w'd say... that if I could pick my parents, I woulda picked her t' be my momma.

[[

-muffled sobbing in the distance-]]

[amuseoffirebane]

((If you got time, idk who with, but just cuz I wanna see you draw him, I'd love to see a smooch for Crumpet. But if you don't have time for it, that's okay too))

Put Crum in his work uniform for this!

My (on the fly redesigned) Corlanni and Neoma’s Crumpet!

[asktheappraiser]

You know who I'd like to see talking?

((Crumpet and Dowel.))

[askcrib]

Miss Crib -- sumtimes I get sad, staying on my own. But remembering that I got you to be my friend makes me feel a lot better. I don't know what having a family is supposed to be like, and all I got to draw from for data reference is my daddies, and they ain't much. But sometimes I think, having you around might be a little like what having a Mama is supposed to be like. I'm sorry if that's a stupid thing to feel. I'm not good at feelings. -- Crumpet

She reads it, and she reads it over, and a third time, her whirring gears grinding slow to halt for well over a minute. Her eyes dim, iris narrowing to a close as she lets the words sink in. It hurts, in the way that all cherished things do.

"Oh, Crum.." comes the sigh, as finally she musters the will to put the letter away with the first. She doesn’t know why the letter makes her feel quite so sad, or so happy, or why she feels a new pit of worry dig into her ever-growing pile of worries, but she makes a note to visit when next they return to Plifterston… and perhaps, to go back a little sooner than later.

[askcrib]

[[guysss what do you want to do ferdinand do you still want to continue muse what are we even doing  neoma you're all recovering and stuff but after that do you want to do crumpet things]]

[askcrib]

Finally Woken

{did you hear that?}

"Hear wha'--"

{shh!} She pats her hand over his mouth, as the grey stillness seems to dissolve. An ambiguous human murmur, the sound of long-shut car doors opening-- then meek, terrified and metal,

"TM?"

and dropping her knitting, The Mouse is at the bench in an instant.

Alive. Crib's relief is palpable.

"Oh my God," she breathes, hanging her head but not daring to shut her eyes completely. The sound and weight of TM climbing up her arm makes her wince, but it's nothing but a comfort when she feels small, familiar arms wrapping around the side of her head. "Thought I'd killed you," she whispers. "Killed you so many times, a-and everyone else, I was so scared, and--"

Eyes staring right into hers. {i know, you loaf. you were dreaming. shush.}

"I know, but--"

{magic dreaming.}

"Doesn't change that I--"

{it wasn't you. you wouldn't ever. would you?}

Crib shakes her head, breathing shallowly despite the lack of a fire to stoke. "Never," she confirms, but that wasn't the point, that wasn't what she was trying to say. The point was-- but she doesn't want to argue again, no, it was just another nightmare, so she bites back her reservations and leans back into the hug, trying to will away the false images and feelings she'll never forget. "How long was I out?"

{too long,} The Mouse replies, and she plants a kiss above Crib's cold, smokeless vents; she slips down under her coat to re-engage the mechanism for Crib's fuel tank, then peeks out and waves Crumpet over, pointing emphatically at the now-mostly-empty bag of wood.

[askcrib]

Crumpet has passed away

When  news reaches them of what happened-- scrappers, of course, it had to have been scrappers, poor child lived alone on the streets-- it doesn't- doesn't sink in at first. Not with Crib. 

TM just frowns, the same disappointed frown she'd had when she heard of Laurie's own death, as she watches a grim sorrow settle over her friend.

"He was only a kid."

Children weren't-- he wasn't-- she had hardly known him, and still, Crib had felt an uncanny fondness for him, almost familial in nature. And then, again, so quickly another had passed. She sets down against a tree, curling herself against the bark. 

He was only a kid. 

She'd been born of the death of a child, sure, she knew that it happened but it didn't, didn't make it any less

it was wrong

it was terrible

it was pointless!

That was it. Pointless. Oh, how the blunt gnawed.

The familiar yet unstoppable ache of grief becomes her.