#((if I get more for her going on I'm considering commissioning a new PFP since I lost my apple pen idk))

[smoothsailingthroughstars]

Passage of Time

(Oh, the sickly, bittersweet scent of the roiling ocean tide, carrying galaxies in it's whims, wearing at the too-heavy blackened spacerocks to make its heavy, ashy starsand.)

(The doll pulled her knees in as she gazed off into the distance. Apollo safe in bed back at the lighthouse, but futures and meanings still uncertain. The only thing that was certain was the tides and the idea of death inching forward. Even if bodies seemed stable or immortal, it would seem everything would break down someday. If nothing else, she had figured out where on the island she could collect clay for herself, but there was no way she could get the materials to make glaze at her rate. She was reluctant to re-enter the door for now, unsure of what could await her or her… family.)

(It wasn't worth the risk just to get some glaze to cover their injuries. Much less, they didn't know how to build a kiln at the right temperature or what would happen if they baked themself for the injuries on their torso.)

(The only thing that was worth it was the here and now. What had it been, over a year since anything of note had happened outside of Apollo and their family? Life was quieter, now. They weren't sure how they felt about it.)

(She sighed, long, deep, and unnecessary. Her sense of self felt so small with the passage of time. After this rest, she'd go chop some firewood and settle in for her most recent project. She'd put off resupplying for as long as possible.)