Jkonna: Diga-do ya think that Rupert and diga-Dina get lonely without any attention on them? Diga?

Me: not really. They're probably happy they get privacy from the likes of you. And well the likes of everyone. Whether they realize it or not, their feelsy moments of romance are being spied on by lots of people, so...

Jkonna: BUT IT'S FUN TO BE WRITTEN ABOUT

Me: Not to everyone.

Jkonna: IF I THINK IT'S FUN, EVERYONE MUST THINK IT'S FUN!

Dino: I THINK I'M GOING TO TRUST THAT LOGIC!

Rosie: -hopefully steps near him-

Jkonna: -tackles her to the ground and drags her away-

Dino: … okay then.

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 7: Let's all go Home

Jkonna

I can't believe I let him trick me into diga-doing this without it even being a trick in the first place. His words, like rays of sunshine in the middle of a cold, vast, nexus of space, have forcefully lightened me and've gotten me into the thinking that this might be a good idea. I officially diga-don't know what the word "good" means anymore; I have diga-disowned it from my life. Because that is most certainly possible.

Annoyed by the odorless stench waddling beside me, my nose plucks into the air and buffets sweet but not sugared and homey scents that come from diga-dinaurians after you grow this used to them. I used to wonder if spending this much time in their technical house would make me one of them, too. Apparently not. Diga-Dino probably likes it more that I stayed the same. Right now, though, I can't tell what he'd prefer, because I'm out of his sight: oh, and diga-Dynal's sight, too. All the sights. He's the reason this all happened anyways. Sometimes I wonder why my best friend just had to have the best diga-dad ever, which therefore technically makes him my diga-dad too, and therefore when these things happen, I'm stuck with it and believe it because he's awesome, and why diga-does this guy have to be so awesome? Seriously, bro, I'd love you even if your freaking diga-dad wasn't diga-Dynal. Chill.

But that's what he, the diga-dad himself, wanted me to do: chillllll. But I can't. I. Can't. The thing wobbles by my side like it's scared of me and my lips twist into a smirk. She shirks back very quickly, fast enough to make me want to laugh, but she's not allowed to make me laugh, so I scarf the feelings back diga-down where they belong not really.

"Stoppit Rosie," I mumble. She diga-does not stoppit one bit. Shaking. Annoyingly shaking. Pruning at her tattered pink clothing I ruined all on my own because of how annoying she just so happens to be... more than annoying...

Jkonna, you seriously need to calm down. I mean it. I don't wanna put the foot down. You know I don't wanna put the foot down—

I STOPPED CARING BLISS.

but if I have to drop the foot on your crazy needlework to make you stop and think, I will. You bet. I will.

I stopped caring yesterday. That was so bad. Seriously though, she hadn't made bad sewing puns in ages and she's going to reopen bleeding ear wounds if it goes on—bleeding ear wounds I thought wrong might be safe now, but in reality they will never be safe since Bliss is in existence.

You seriously. Seriously. Seriously you need to calm down. And she's back to making sentences that diga-don't sentence. Great. I can feel my orbs pinching from where I stand, my legs the only clay walls holding this mess of Jkonna in one piece. Bangs shadow over my face as is and probably shadow it more than what's good for me.

But what is good? Aaaah, that is the que—

BLISS. STOP.

Aw, that's mean. Morie, being her respectful self and keeping everything from her preened feathers to her tropical beak in check, raises said mango-like beak and pokes at me in my head a little. She's like a voice in my head, only I know she exists and I feel the lifeline pumping in her, the one connected to me. Considering that helps slow this portion of life some. C'mon, Jkonna, give her a chance. She's just being her rightful self. Although, I guess you're having a hard time and all... Hmm... Oh dear. Does that make 'us' the bad guys? Yuck. I'd rather we weren't bad guys!

My finned idiot with a long neck—it must be mentioned cuz it makes me feel like it makes him a little more vilified—just saunters on into the telepathic conversation. Did someone say 'bad guys?' See. Perfect moment. He's not a particularly cool or hot bad guy or anything, but he's Foster the futabi, and that's all the support he's getting.

Because I diga-don't know what else to say, I screw up my face at my own self, or, well, the voices floating around in it, not sure what kind of words to punch into them until they punch in themselves. And I roll with it because they sound pretty fine to me. Not good. Never good. Nevermore. Why do you guys continue to... pester me abou—

Bliss, I'm really really lost again. I mean... it started when I thought I could smell smoke but didn't. Darn... who's been setting everything on fire all the time? Honestly, that's started to get a little bit annoying, just saying! Either way... what happened? I'm really really lost again.

Are you really? Geee. Not like you said it twi—oh my gosh that's like polysyndenton or anaphora or something literary yeesssss. I love literary devices. They're like the marshmallows in grain cereals.

Bliss, I stopped caring five seconds before you said anything.

Well, gee, Foster, are you telling me to start synchronized rhyming again? In the state Bomba's in, I sure garner I could get her to rhyme too, and then what would you do? Oooooooh, was that a sign? "Too?" "Do?" You think it's a sign? I bet it's a sign.

And she pauses, too, like it's something memorable. I'm about to try to haul this shipwreck somewhere useful when out of nowhere the scent of burnt sea salt tumbles up my throat. Suddenly my breath, every time I breathe, releases that stench just the tiniest bit. Shut up. You're acting like Jkonna again. Getting so emotionally distressed. I'm serious. Shuuuut up. There are times when I wonder why that orange-finned useless fat long-necked over-achieving blow off futabi continues to hang around me. Then I diga-decide it's because he's the only bit of sanity we've got that's keeping me afloat, and there's probably no chance of finding scum more grounded than Foster, so thus he stays.

His words begin to sink in. WHAT DIGA-DID YOU. JUST. CALL. ME?

See? I'm right. I'm always right. At least, more right than the acro.

HE IS NOT MORE RIGHT THAN THE ACRO. HE IS WRONG. I WISH A POLYSYNDENTON WOULD, RIGHT NOW, FALL OUT OF THE HEAVENS AND CRACK HIS SKULL OPEN.

Bliiissss, whaaat's a polyysynndenton thingyy?

Morie mutters something I can't quite catch. I think she's annoyed.

Well, I'm annoyed too.

A voice, my voice, of sharpened lightness singed in heat, spirals and attacks with a mutter: Sh-shut up over there! YOU THINK I CAN'T HEAR YOU, DIGADIG? WE-WELL... d-digadig, I-I can! S-so shut up! They're all being so annoying again. Morie gets it. Rosie hasn't made much sound for awhile now. Maybe I should be worried but most of my thoughts aren't actually on her, so... I know you're talking about me, too... I-I know you're all j-just freaking annoyed, too, okay! W-WE'RE ALL ANNOYED! And honestly, I diga-don't know what else to say other than repeat those last few words a few times, so that even those as clueless as Bomba get just how I feel. Fuming. Steaming. Ugh, stop it. Stop steaming. If only I had a less useless water vivosaur; although maybe even diga-Droplet couldn't save me from my own temper.

"J-Jkonna..." Tight and tampered as rosebuds, sharp just to the thorn's edge but impossible to diga-detest, just about, by the thickening sense of petal and perfume; but not silky like a lily—diga-don't listen to me, Bliss, stop acting weird—because this is a rose. This is the sorta thing only roses, sharp and squeaky roses, could pull off. "You know we've been standing here f-for like t-ten minutes, riiight? We... we already made it to Doug's b-basement and everything!"

Rosie. Of course it's Rosie. Not many other options, just saying. Except for maybe Diggins's girlfriend, who, so long as he plans to stay with her, and he'd better, I guess is sort of my mom now? Or, will be? In a way? Gee. Wonder how thrilled she is about that. Probably not at all. No, that can't be true; about half the reason that turquoise-haired diga-ditz ever realized she was there for him was because of me, and diga-Dino, too, before he... well... that. He and I both wanted him and Vivian to be together, although only slightly for more reason than the fact that they have matching hair and eyes: both turquoise. Only she's pale and cunning; he's... relatively darker than me and not very mischievous at all.

So you know perfect couple. Funny enough, they kinda are: and without us realizing, Vivian diga-did like the diga-dude a hecka lot before my best friend and I had come into play. As it's getting hard to remember such things, I diga-determine that it's time to stop thinking about stuff that won't happen before bawling diga-does happen; and it will; if I diga-don't... hurry up already. The last straw knocked over for my needed motivation to take a scene is when one small raptor to the other whispers suspicious words that remind me of just how stressed I am wreckonna and, yanking that pink diga-ditz along with me, we move.

And trip. CraaaAAAAAAaaagh.

No guarantees.

Somehow, I manage to force both of our bodies up without another accident. At least, I think it was an accident. I diga-didn't try to trip the pathetic morsel; but who knows, maybe she's out for blood. Okay, I know I used a sadistic word to label the pink one strewn to my side, like she's my other half, the Rosie half, under lack of more fitting Rosie term, still, though: I called her that because she's nervous and awkward and can't handle herself a lot of times, and therefore she is not me. She's also horrible at invoking anger like say me; her emotions reflect whatever the heck the other guy's spewing at her.

I'm pretty sure that's how she snuck into his life. She tried to act loud and rambunctious and be that guy surfing the diga-Dino wave alongside him, and well this is about how far she got. This is when her wave crashed and the foamy goodness—if that's even what it could be called—spiraled out from beneath her and now she's laying flat on the crumbled sand of broken diga-dreams: these diga-dreams that she will never fulfill. It'd be diga-depressing if she never went for something she actually could reach that made sense. Yes, I'm still on edge about her. Yes, it's probably my fault because bad temper. No, I'm fine with it. Diga-doesn't matter too much.

Though, I diga-dunno if Rosie has the strength to wipe us both over. Honestly, it must've been a team effort. This is why we're not as close as I am with say my... uh... best friend. No, there's probably some hidden secret reason why she always, always mimics the diga-ditzes around her and it diga-doesn't even matter who, like she's a diga-deranged vivo—oh, like she's Lone or Bliss maybe, but whatever that reason is, it's buried treasure and she won't unearth it and I honestly can't say I care as much as I should.

Because this is starting to get redundant and that glare freaks me out, I tug at the abandoned pink one and she follows: magenta orbs flicker from heated stare to hopeless cause repeatedly. Creepy. Creepy girl. Creepy Rosie. But anyways her hand sticks against mine and squeezes its brownness rather powerfully like she wants to control me, a clay figure she can mold into whatever it is her heart so diga-desires. Oh, turd, if that was true, she's make me be him. My best friend. Diga-Dino. Why the heck is she so obsessed with him of all beautiful and lovely creatures; why stop at the junk diga-depot when right beside are gems of all sizes? Well, no, that's not nice. But I can't say I care.

Jkonna. Care.

Foster. It diga-doesn't work like that, digadig.

Jkonna. I bet it does. His turned-over whatever tone diga-digs into my skin and diga-dares me to make another move. We tread carefully on this chessboard, because if either of us trips, the other one can call it out and who knows what strange diga-deeds might come out of it? This freaking futabi, flashing his orange-tinged scales so royally in the air, like he's the triumphant water vivosaur when actually as I think about it I know multiple others who could fill that role and you know what that includes diga-Droplet and Lone and others I can't really think of right now, but honestly, he's just annoying. And it's very easy to find something annoying these diga-days. Unfortunately to yell at him wouldn't diga-do much good, whatever that could be; I'm pretty sure by now that this long-necked idiot is tone-deaf or something.

"J-Jkonna..." Tugging. Squishy pink fingers plucking on and pinching at enriched, dark skin as the other hand, just as shaky, raises to point out the box-like cage we have begun to traipse through. Gigantic, of course, able to hold perhaps five full-size hundredsomethinglong Pippies at one time, quite the feat, the silvery and purple-carpeted walls and floors of the Fossil Center basement never cease to ponder me: why so huge? He only has like three inventions: the transport to the starship we just removed ourselves from, a geometric pad design thing where he actually should be working, and... a covered probably unfinished so it's smoking thingy tumbled up in the far corner. Also lots of random scrap metal thingies in the other far corner, so many thingies, where, studded in the midst, splay two brown-stuffed spinny chairs.

Memories: a boy and a girl on top of those spinny chairs in a sudden, diga-desperately bored attempt at something else, slammed the chairs in as one to diga-distract the diga-doc as they forced themselves upstairs in search of Vivian to try and get them together. It diga-didn't work. None of it worked. I tackled him. Diga-Dino pulled me off, or maybe it was Harei. Vivian accidentally revealed her diga-disappointment, so still worth it. The boy, back then, hadn't known he was a prince, let alone a diga-dinaurian. But the girl had been accepted again as a digadig, begrudgingly by a grandpa who still refuses to reclaim her. But that's okay.

I found people who diga-do claim me: a multitude of experiences and feelings and sunshiny feels everywhere to glow over and guide me, such an abundance so that I never have to remember the one I diga-don't want to.

Pink tugs at my blurred, memorable self, so I move for her, to shove us outside the massive vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring diga-door of stricken red, up flights of stairs, so many they're practically winged to which Bliss smirks and Foster groans, metal on metal and plum carpeting that squishes like grapes beneath tattered, bare feet on both of the present females, until eventually nobody falls off a guardrail and has to start over and we somehow hit the summit. I will never understand why there are so many stairs and corridors underneath this simple diga-dome building. Last I checked, diga-Diggins wasn't a creepy spy. Although... crazy things happen sometimes. Like, oh, you know, the accidental creators of humans diga-dinaurians just saying show up and get mad because their leader lost his son and daughter and he's gone a little crazy yeah diga-Dynal has a rare scary side and then we all have huddle in said basement as diga-Diggins attempts to start a transport because he is insane like that.

Maybe I shouldn't call my soon-to-be-dad insane.

Too late.

Not like I diga-didn't already know or anything.

"Ohhh, sweet air!" Under the thuk of finality, a sheen of diga-door slams shut behind me and catches a swatch of dark toga fabric but I diga-don't care I am free. Until a step shoves me into purple carpet and metal. Then no, I'm not free. "ROSIE, DIGA-DO SOMETHING! DIGAAAAAA!" Thankfully, that's a pretty great backup plan and pink fingers fly to latch over and unhook my new digadig-stealing-monster-guy so that I'm not kidnapped and fabrics allow me to move freely. I sneer back at that shining, gloating surface and mutter, "I bet I diga-didn't taste good," and stutter on back to fall in place with her of all people. Yeah, but she kinda saved me just now, so maybe that's where the random spurt of humor came from. It'd be easier to laugh it out if he was here. But he never is. And Rosie's only making it wo—

I told you she's crazy.

I don't think she's that crazy, Foster! I, as one of Jkonna's fist vivosaurs along with Morie and Bomba, as in not-you, praise upon the power of the polysyndenton to shoot heavenly fire down on top of this unholy futabi!

WHOA. WHOA. Bliss. Calm. Diga. Down!

FOR THE QUEEN OF MY KNIGHTHOOD! AAAAAAHHH! The squishy sound that follows allows me to believe someone is trying to crush the life out of a watery creature that can't diga-die: as with any other fellow vivosaur. He'll just... diga-decompose... whenever he diga-decomposes. But he'll be around for a long time before that. I also have a backup source for why this is true because diga-Droplet sits on Lone a lot and the purple thing looks the same to me. Then again, with purple things that have scales and fur and webbed toes and feathers and a beak, there is no "same" or "normal."

My gaze laps back at the shore of where I can see Rosie. Her pink blur of a body easily picks up in my sight and just stares back at me, like I diga-did a bad thing, but that wasn't my fault. Again, the words come to me, the ones that diga-Dynal told me to steer me on my way. He wanted me to diga-do this anyways... wanted me to not have to wait... wanted me to find a way to release all of this hysterical energy... maybe while I'm at it act nicer at her... Fists clench and unclench like seashells on my hands, oysters cracked and repaired and cracked and repaired, caked in diga-dirt the color of my skin.

Squeeeeeeech. Bliss. Oh my gosh. Diga-don't actually try to kill him not even I find that funny geez. She tiredly mumbles something over her rough tongue that has to do with metaphors and similes and lots of shining armor, knights, I think, knighthood, whatever it is, and also the squeezing bagpipe noises of a futabi's... lungs? Diga-do they have lungs? Considering he's okay with living on land, he must have something. Something that squishes and sounds like bagpipes.

It's easy, in a rush of motion, to feel his eyes on me. I glare towards the ground because it's easier staring at fuzzy, mashed up carpeting than it would be to stare him back, nothing but a sack of Rosie by my side. His eyes; then, probably somewhere near, her eyes, too. She hasn't been far behind now that they're a thing. Vivan's so pale; I guess my skin kinda works, then, only diga-Diggins is kinda darker than me, so adding her in... probably makes sense. Only my hair. Fire. Lots of fiery colors that should've been diga-doused by their turquoise combined, only I'm not actually literally related to them so it never will be. My eyes are light and blue, though, so that sort of mixes well. I think. Rosie, why are you still here? Go home. Go home or something. You're just standing here in an open chamber, a diga-door out of it not even ten steps away and I'm sure your grandpa is like looking for you stupid.

The single voice paying attention to me gently calls. Jkonna, you really are stressed. Please. Calm down. You're worrying everyone... and you've been worrying Bliss for some time now.. and Rosie's worried too... and—Ooh. You just fell, you know. Your knees embedded in the ground... I think you're trembling... Jkonna... Morie, of course, notices things when I'm simply diga-done... and can't anymore. Eyelids have offered the luxury of preventing me from seeing anything, anyone. It's quiet, now. Voices murmur, but it's still so quiet. You really really are going through a lot... So try not to pull yourself apart like this before you even get a chance to show them.. show them anything. The m-raptor of varying green feathers has such a simple, rhythmic, methodical tone that just circles round and round and round... Her beak clucks as she tries and fails to garner attention. Her words swirl in my head, and they're quiet, too, even when everything else isn't. For a moment, I feel a whole lot like diga-Dino, because he'll diga-do random things like this too, sometimes. Well, he... used to. Used to...

Why are you... talking to me right now?

Mango orbs blink. Um. Because we're almost one and the same. And everyone is worried for you and your state. I think your own emotions very accurately reflect Dino's. Also, you know the situation with everyone else: Bliss got all knight crazy, Foster's now her steed, and Bomba is begging again to be the squire but Bliss wants her again to be the prisoner. I think she's agreeing, now. That's not very nice, Bliss. A sigh so calming it almost brushes me over. I'm more worried about you, though; everyone is. Hmmm... isn't that the special part of Vivosaur Island?

Hands that are open splay out somewhere. For all I know, Rosie's finally scrambled her way out of here. If she knows what's good—fine fine—for her she'd go diga-disappear behind a rock or somewhere nice and far away. Take a vacation. Run along to that... what was it called... Caliosteo Isles place where Pauleen lives, I think, hard to think right now, and well they both have pink hair so they'd get along fine. Pauleen's grandpa is Watcher, too. But that's not because we're cousins; well, then again, he's not really my grandpa anymore since he was like no and knocked me off and whatnot, that old... coot, and... well... I guess my only family now towers over me and also hangs around in space.

Diga-Dino and his diga-dad... and I suppose... if I wanna look at it in that way... the two who diga-decided to slump diga-down in front of me in my position, just so that we're all the same level.

They're technically my parents now? Wow. Weird thought. Brain hurts. Haven't had parents for a few like ten maybe more years gimme a chance. Owww. It honestly, like a hardened core, diga-does throb in there, and something knock-knocks, maybe my imagination, on this new little tidbit on the life of Jkonna: she officially has had two pairs of parents. How great. Ugh. Parents. I hate that word. Makes me wanna spit the syllables out and never use them again.

"Jkonna..? D'you hear me? You're acting a... little... like... uhhgh, what was it.. I just has it... I just had it..."

You'd be surprised how often this happens. This poor guy and his total fail memory system.

"Y'mean Dino... Doug?" Diga-Doug. Oh yeah. That's his legit first name, but diga-Diggins: it's better. Although Vivian probably abuses it, so it balances out. Being his diga-delightful girlfriend and all. I can feel her permeating gaze travel up my also slumped figure, diga-doorways of eyes, all closed up, the clam shells forcing my hands into shaky molds of nothing, really. How great a mom would she be? About to... find out? O...kaaaay...

Silence. Then; "Oh. Yes. Him. I worry about him. I'm sure you do too, but I really worry about him. Jkonna... she watches over him, or at least tries to... It looks like it's catching up to her, though, like it's catching up to him, too. Now we just have a couple of tuckered out kids. Really... makes you pity them." The brownie, the brownie just like me, and I feel a pule of a twinge in my heart at the thought of it, he... pities us. Somehow, it's like an energizer in my heart which therefore pumps more blood and therefore it's not just the very vulnerable and emotional center of me flourished in warmth, but really it's all of me. He has a rough edge to his touch of tone, and that little stilt that's probably called diga-doc mixed in there. And the pauses. When he forgets turd. What part of that voice diga-does lovesick Vivian, oh diga-dang, adore the most? Hmm... I wonder... No idea.

Because I can't help it, because he's practically a piece of me, because there's no way I can get through a moment without him: I wonder what he would diga-do if he was here and he was okay, and not hurting on the inside and then making me hurt on the inside too; although it's not really his fault. Because he hurts, I hurt. Would he hurt for me?

Once I almost told him—ha, Rosie, have you gotten this close?—about my... life and junk. I think there was sympathy. I... diga-don't know...

Before my thoughts have a chance to go too loopy, the soft but hardened tone that is Vivian slopes up and over and around me. There for me. Yeah, I think she's be a pretty fantastic mom. Okay weird thoughts stop please. "Yes... All in all, ignoring their strange amount of energy, they are nice kids. And they're always together... very close... It only makes sense that... after what happened to him, it'd effect her as well." Cold flesh taps at my face. I think she's trying to pat my head. Oh yeah. I like her a little more each passing moment. "Doug... d'you think I'll... do okay?"

"Hahahaha..." Oh hey, it's his diga-Diggins laugh. I diga-don't think they noticed that I'm kinda awake right now, like this thin veil of sleep coats me but my eyes are open. Metaphorically open. They're still diga-doors. "She's smiling as is. I'm sure you'll do very well! Don't be so hard on yourself, Vivian! Dino and Jkonna have emotional ties to you already, and... alongside me, I'm sure that just makes them a little more thankful. You'll just have to wait and see... For now, I think this girl needs some rest before she puddles into the carpet.

"Where was her room again?"

Oh my gosh.

No matter how much relentless diga-Diggins nagging it took, I think at some point the two of those adorable diga-ditzes end up planting me in warm sheets smelling of stale dirt, like that of fossils: comforting. Weights hit my legs bundled in fleshy heat so it's gotta be my vivosaurs, probably just as tired as me. Except for Foster; he's just plain screwed. Eyes closed, I'm not quite sure where I'm staying, but apparently it's been confirmed somewhere or another that... well, I'm... yeah not saying it. That's just creepy to hear it whirling around in my head.

Time passes at a lull and dreams strew about me, and the same words come round and round. What the heck will diga-Dino think?

...oh yeah. He won't be really... thinking much, I suppose. Heat sears past a tip close to my head, flabby, I think my ear, which Bomba cuddled against and now it's no surprise burning. Shifting, swatting blankets and swaddling them over me, piling up mounds of mountainous pillows on top of my head, I try to snore so no one can force me up. A gruff, male tone observes its fake factor and I want to kick you Foster. Stay still. No one will notice. Brown limbs and red hairs alike freeze over around a desert of blankets that shift in slumps and hills. Like a personality. A regular personality. Holes and peaks, flaws and talents, and moods. Pretty natural. Maybe a river here or there cuz we're all a little weird somewhere in our personality blanket.

Only some of them must be blank and hollow: whitewashed. And other might be flipped at in the attempt to still the life inside. And because I really can't stop worrying about him, thoughts storm overhead and what if that's what's going on inside of him right now? What if he's being torn to shreds? I'm supposed to watch over him, even if his own diga-dad enforced this break on me. Confirm the whole adoption thing. Converse with other beings for once in my life. Diga-Diggins had seemed maybe a little worried for me. Crease lines in his whisper. Vivian... well, she was a lake without the ice in the winter. Calm, slightly rippled... maybe concerned about me. I mean, I'm technically her you-know-what now. I try to place the word on my tongue and choke.

"GYAAHK!" Fluff enters my mouth and brown hands follow in the vain attempt to scrub it out. Then I'm not only choking on stuffing. We can't forget my own fingers, can we? Pulsating and pushing, eventually those pop out, and I swallow enough then to satisfy the ticklish sensation within me. Finally, I shrug ignorance off and swerve up through the thick blankets that wrap and try to tie me in place and utterly fail.

Judging by the feeling coating one side of my face, there must be sunlight... I'd say a window, right over there to the one si—SHHHHHHHhhluMMmmp.

That's what I get for trying to reach at it. Carpet very quickly slams into my butt and I snort because that was sure stupid. Fingers seize and allow me to crawl up and search through the yep window, catching brilliant glares of light deep within my soul, shedding brightness on a situation that was dark until I woke and fell into the hand of the day.

I like it when you talk poetic to me.

Not talkin' to ya, digadig. Bliss really likes poetry. Wavering, my eyes bury like chips of lost ice into a sill, engraved by tiny diga-designs of sloping curves. A number of names flood my mouth on who could've made this, and the pangs of aches of pins stabbing me, the ones that diga-detect how much I've been actually ignoring those guys, sinks in. Burns itch over skin that soon diga-doesn't feel like my own, stamping memories I shouldn't be so forceful over only to stuff them in the closet of I-can't-think-about-it-now.

Maybe I simply... miss... this. Maybe it will diga-do me good to run outside a little.

Hovering, I gently tap the pads of one hand onto the cool sheet of glance; and if I glance hard enough, the very edges of a face peer back at me. The set jaw, round cheeks, streaks of hair that set an end at my little chin, the others that either cut off as bangs or spring down like a flaming waterfall to my toes and below that, too. My eyes narrow and focus and narrow and their icy cores seem to shift with each function.

"Hi..?" I ask my reflection. Watch my jaw stretch uncertainly. A crease over my pointy little nose. I stick out my tongue: a flash of fleshy pink over my dark features. And it goes back in. I stare at myself for a moment, then, just me and the girl in front of me who's also me. The back diga-door of yesterday stuffs in random thoughts about what happened then. I pulse my arms high above my head and clap them together a few times, twirl around on my toes, and promptly trip over my hair.

Bomba warily asks where the heck I went. After a moment, I raise again to fight gravity and collect my little vivosaurs, all of them spilling into medals, red, brown, blue, green, and hide them away to stumble upon later as the voices in my head diga-decide to hate morning. I trudge over grape carpeting and amble past the bed, sticking a finger and curling it over the wooden texture that's anything but what that crazy starship has, and, diga-ducking out the entrance, twirl diga-down a few stairs, because the Fossil Center diga-does have a second floor which I used to sneak into to steal that big red Tramp when I needed him because flying, because when I first met him, and then I pull myself out the diga-door.

Diga-dirt and pebbles alike file into my feet to knock a piece or two out of it. For now, though, I'm just happy to be filled by the sunshine, to stretch out my arms and collect it on my skin because oh my gosh it's been awhile. Sure, I... go out sometimes. Not always. I worry for him way too much to be healthy and here's yet another example of just that. Morie and Bomba titter about healing rays while Foster complains that he's gonna get his fins tanned again. Bliss says nothing; I say nothing. She's... in a way, a lot like the diga-Droplet to my diga-Dino. Only she's... weirder than her. Sometimes. She hasn't tried out hugging. As well, I diga-do have Bomba and Morie, all the same.

Standing here was bound to attract some attention toward me. A hesitant girl, her head swallowed up by a red cap, steps up to me kinda shyly, and I can tell she diga-doesn't know what to say when her matching boots nearly trip over the baby rocks below. Tugging at a fold or two, studded by some warm color or another, leafy eyes trail up to me. Her light, milky skin radiates like mine probably diga-does, only without the yellow warmth: just glowing lights.

She runs a lot. What was her name? Peggy. Oh yeah. Peggy. I think she liked Pippy because he's a titanic vivosaur and she likes titanic vivosaurs. I remember bragging about the three brains of Guhnash diga-Dino had to fight and how they're titanic vivosaurs too, just like Thomas and Iggy, igno and frigi, same diga-difference. In a low, trying-to-hide-it anxious, pressed tone, she mutters through her lips, "Is it real hard?"

"Hrrrrr?" Try to soften it or tell her just how much I've suffered? Okay yeah no I'm not gonna be so rude. Rudeness really isn't a way to treat people. She's just innocent jogger lady Peggy who tries to run fast but really can't. "It's goin' okay, I think. He's gonna get better. Not on my watch will he get bad, digadig." I poke a hand at my heart just to prove it, and my tunic shifts somewhere; the spot I patted feels warmer, now. The words I used diga-didn't lie.

Some things diga-do... get, well, bad. There was this one guy, name's Bartholomew Bullwort, what a long one, apparently he... well, he liked to annoy kids and beat up a lot of stuff and tried to freeze the island, but... well, he got kinda messed up to begin with. Vivian, she has some real close buddies, Snivels and Rex, and they all kinda pitied him or something and tried to help him? Diga-dunno. Things happened. That Bullwort diga-dude, though... Worry, man, worry.

"He's gotta be real real lucky to get a buddy like you on his side, yeah?" Soft and light orbs direct back to her leaves of eyes, calming for the runner she is. Lots of energy and experience pent up in her, even if she never gets any better. "It's funny... Since the world isn't so huge, it's easy to sidle up into roles with everyone, get to know everyone, until you know all the names and you're comfortable around all the peeps. And so even though, say, I'm not like you or anything to him, Jkonna, but... I still feel comfortable here. It's weird."

"Yeaah..." It is kinda funny. We're all just special folks, ain't we. We all know the feeling of some things, because they happened to our island, and this is our home. Maybe she knows some guys better than I diga-do, and same with me, but... it's just funny how it all fits in together. "Diga-dang. We are one big happy puzzle. One of the... y'know, diga, the ones that has all the pieces and everything."

Leafy eyes roll. I pretend to hear them crunch just as if I'd jumped into a big heaping pile of them. "Ha. I'd like to see a puzzle that full." She pauses. Fiddles backwards. The faint tone of impatience creeps in via the rough voice of some sauropod or another. Judging by the icy, mountain-like body I'd guess it an argento—because seriously they have crystal-like mountains jutting on them. Embarrassed and pointing at some trail or another, Peggy staggers back and I smirk and nod and she's off and...

And that... that felt good. Good. To speak with someone I literally know. Like, I guess I get the diga-dinaurians and all that, but also, I'm not connected to them like I am to this place, like I am to all these places, and things. But maybe I will be, if I hang around there. It all started with diga-Duna before she had to go and diga-die and then Raptin too, stupid Raptin, he's annoying, but, well... the feeling of knowing others...

What is this strange feeling? I sneak for a peek at a blurred sky, as if it'll summon the answers for me. And it diga-doesn't, but the sight of the world at lone at large catches up somewhere in me, and I can't diga-do much other than look at it all.

Look at it all...

And then it reminds me just how little he sees of this place. He claims to hate the sun but he needs the warmth in his sunkissed body, diga-doesn't he? He's had it this way since he first stayed here. Of course he needs the sun in his life. I should diga-drag him over here an—

No. Not diga-drag him. None of that. N-not again... that was... that was bad, I get now. I should... I should take his hands, take his hands gently and lead him through a world that is ours, that lives and breathes with us weirdos living just as it diga-does only on top of it and much much tinier. He's seen this all the time and now he diga-doesn't and well... maybe that's another thing. Diga-Duna. His family—the missing sister possessed by an ancient. Look at it all...

Hey, Bliss?

Waaaaaaaaaaahhaaaaaat.

Diga-did any of that make sense at all?

She helpfully blinks. Uhhh. Yeah. I think so. Wasn't really paying attention, the sun was caught in my gaze and I wanted to tell Foster to see if he'd shut up. He didn't.

Yeah, course not. But that's okay, digadig. Diga-d'you think there's guys out there who want to see him again? Maybe diga-Dino needs to run around some.

Haaa. Yeah maybe.

Still... there's something about this place... Maybe if I pester him enough, convince him to visit at the least diga-Diggins and Vivian, if we start with actually explaining to the guy that the two of them really diga-did get together, maybe... maybe I'll figure out what I'm trying to say.

And maybe when the words come to me, he'll heal.

If not, well, it's not like I can ever leave him. I'll always be there. And whether he realizes it or not, he will be, too.

Yay for sunshiny chapters and Jkonna not being a bum to everyone in sight!

Jkonna: BUT ROSIE. BUT NO.

Me: TIS A MIRACLE. SHE'S BEING MOSTLY CALM.

Jkonna: OH SHUT UP, DIGADIG.