Day Four-Hundred-Twelve: Gushing

I swear she said something today. I swear! She did! She totally did, diary. She said something, and I know it, because I love her. And junk.

She said something.

… 

She did!

…

Okay, so, maybe it was just gas. A wheeze. I dunno. What kinda sounds do people make when they're in a coma? And if her eyes are open, does it COUNT as a coma? Should she be CONSIDERED a coma patient, or just a really sick person with open eyes and naught else?

Nah. Really sick sounds bad. A coma's just a coma. Kinda like a comma but with a deeper sound. Y'know, like, a comma wraps around in a sorta spooning position. Like a coma patient. See the parallel? It's totally there. Either way, coma, comma, we're in business.

Daughter. Daughter DAUGHTER daughter daughter. Gonna make her weeeeeell, gonna get her all betteeeeeer, gonna do the THING with the STUFF and when that's DONE there will be PROFIT 'cause she'll be UP and ABOUT and then everything will be fine.

Hell, it'll be different. VERY different. See, even though she looked small before, Eve always had BIG KNOTS OF MUSCLE on her little arms. BIG knots. 'cause she was super-strong, right? Now, though, her arms are, like, the size of a normal girl's arms. Maybe a teeeeeensy bit bigger, but not much. I bet she's normal strength, 'n if she lost her freakish warrior prowess… maybe…

Just maybe…

When she wakes up…

She'll be able to talk normally…?

AAHHHHHH I'M SO EXCITED I'M SO EXCITED! Seriously. I mean, I'd be totally happy to have her back the way she WAS, all buffed out and scary, but a normal little girl? Eeeeee! So awesome. SO AWESOME.

I should probably talk about something else. Otherwise you might get bored, diary. Don't want you getting bored. You thrive on input, don'tcha? Yes, yes, I bet you do. You thrive.

Uh. Lesse. More people… came by… said… things… I recall somebody pushing me around a bit, though I warded 'em off by complimenting Eve… always works… um… OH! Harold came by for a few minutes. Had to coax him in off the front porch, the big pansy, 'cause he fears Eve as much as anyone. Maybe more - he IS kind of a wuss. No wonder he's so big on getting the wall up. Probably afraid those migrating clams will get in.

Because. You know. Clams can't hurt a fly. Hope Eve wakes up before the herds move off - their pearls glint so magnificently when they stop to rest for the night, their little clammy mouths yawning up towards the stars. 

(I hear they do that to catch sky dwarves. Makes sense.)

Anyway, Harold wanted… something. I think it had to do with the vote. And what crops we should grow. And getting stone for the wall if the quarry thing that woman wants doesn't go through. Do you know she hasn't even come to see her daughter yet? Ugh! The bloody nerve. I ought to go out 'n drag her in here, maybe bring that psychotic little prick with her and show him what a REAL KID

Sorry. Sorry! Lost track there. Long story short, I told Harold to go with his gut. Gotta go with your gut. Y'know? Like me! My gut tells me to stay here. So I stay here. I stick with Eve, I keep her clean, I spoon-feed her with food Bora brings me, I tell her stories, I carry her up to Evangelina's room for visits, I… am parent. Hear me roar.

ROAR.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Father