Eight year old Megumi wraps his arms around his Divine Dog's neck, burying ( perhaps slightly hiding ) his face in the softness of white scruff fur. ❛ . . . Shiro thinks you look weird. ❜
Kids are brutal, they say whatever they dislike && point out insecurities, honesty without filters. For a moment, his face contorts, nose wrinkling as marble is shattered in annoyance, childishly, a hand moves down entangling in blackened hair. “Hey, that’s not nice” then a ruffle, he snorts && laughs. As if he would be any different, once proclaiming those who tried to seek the bounty on his life were nothing but weaklings. Megumi is developing well, already shikigami have begun to emerge, except for the rabbits. Those seem to fill the estate at the random of moments, attendants that shriek when an overflow of fluffy creatures fill the halls && he manically cackles, taking glee in their distraught nature. It cause his chest to fall in relief, the exhale that smoothly filters through is one of relief, “Adults are pretty weird in general, I’ll give you that one, but Shiro? On thin ice” he hides any signs of laughter, trying to appear stern but Satoru couldn’t.
The temporary joy that fills && swelters within his chest, in serene moments like this, there is a bliss that cannot be achieved elsewhere. “Hmmmm….” the red scarf is unraveled, suddenly wrapped around Megumi as he tuts gently, “The snow will take you, little shadow, then how am I going to find you? Plus, think your friend needs some warmth too” he ponders the possibility of another summon, though says nothing, megumi should enjoy his time as a child without a care. Before the nonsense of politics come, the blade of constant squabbles && the meat grinder they all throw themselves in hits. “Pups usually come with a friend!” he chirps, hands clasping together joyously in the sing-song voice that coos in sugary sweetness, too comical, overdramatic, wanting to be the trendy father.
“Does Shiro have a friend or have you learned to howl like a wolf too?”
