USER #030066

[passio]

Black-as-can-be cats arrive a-pair,
Up on a rooftop, a plaintive eve,
And on the tips of their pointed tails hung
A wispy crescent-moon, looking hazy.
'O-wah, good evening,'
'O-wah, good evening!'
'O-wah, o-wah, o-wah!'
'O-wah, the man of this household is bedridden.'

A poem by Sakutaro Hagiwara, that I heard once from a friend. It seems things have calmed down since #FFFFFF arrived, but I wonder if that's the end of it.

How is everyone's literary analysis? I think we should be prepared for more mysterious messages, and maybe there's a way to prevent it before it gets bad.

Comments

[swordfucker]

[It's strange how the weight of someone familiar can make an uncomfortable spot become almost cozy. He's not worried about the stiffness of his own neck, how his back isn't straight enough or how his arms are crossed when he's too busy making sure that he won't stir too much that it will disturb his friend.]

Good. [He breathes it out like a sigh, letting his eyes drift closed. He feels a little less bad about it if Dextera is going to rest in any way, too, even if he doesn't actually sleep.

Like this, he can fall asleep in ten minutes or so.]