!INBOX // EUDIO.

[medals]

VIEWING CONTACT JEMINY [ WALKER, JEMIMA ] ( AUTOMATED MESSAGE ) jem here. leave a message, ta. [ text | email | voicemail | videochat | visit ]

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[depressiveoptimist]

Got it.

[Kieren heads over, nervous but excited. Why?

Because when Jem opens the door, Kieren will be standing there, warm blooded.]

[medals]

[There is, as promised, excited barking from behind the door. Jem's new dog is still only a puppy, really, despite how big she's gotten. There's the muffled chorus of Jem shooshing her newly acquired daughter and then the scraping of doggie paws across the floor as Jem pushes by her to open the door.

Just over a year ago, Jem was startled awake by a series of missed calls. It had been early in the morning, and she'd missed the first few, but eventually it had been Kieren on the other end, panicked. They hadn't had an explaination for his sudden full-body return to humanity, but they'd got on with it. So, when Jem opens the door and sees brown eyes and pink cheeks, and the real, bushy ginger mounts Kieren's called eyebrows for years -- she's shocked, sure, but not the kind of shocked Kieren is probably expecting. From the outside looking in, though, it looks the same.

She hadn't wanted to tell him about this, because it might have been a one off.

It wasn't. (It might be. He might have wished for this.)

She exhales heavily, and, misty-eyed and relieved, she breathes out:] Oh, Kier, [and pulls him in for a tight hug, dog barking at her backside.]

[depressiveoptimist]

[Kieren has been human--or at least...alive again for a few days. He didn't want to tell Jem until he was sure it was going to stick, until he was sure he wasn't going to turn back, or die somehow, as if that was somehow the final stage of all of this. But it hasn't been--and he's hopeful he's in the clear, now.

Everything feels new, again, including the warmth and tightness of Jem hugging him, the smell of her surrounding him. He doesn't hesitate to hug back, his fingers sliding around to grip at her, breathing in deeply. He missed this.]

I don't know how this happened--or what happened, even. But I'm--I can feel everything, again.

[medals]

It's -- It's -- [She doesn't know. There hadn't been an explanation last time either, that she can recall. ] A miracle.

[Maybe it is. Maybe, despite both their disbelief in higher powers, maybe it is a miracle. Who's to say? This is a city that grants wishes, after all. She squeezes and squeezes him until she has to let go, pulling back to take in the details. The brown eyes, the flush on his cheeks -- the actual, real warmth radiating from him. ]

Are -- are you okay with this?

[depressiveoptimist]

[Kieren isn't sure if it's a miracle. They don't believe in that stuff...yeah. But everything that has to do with what has happened to him, to his friends, has been so strange--who is to say what is truly happening?

Even when they pull back, he keeps ahold of one of her hands, not wanting to let go of that feeling...of warmth on his skin.]

I don't--I think so.

[He gives a tight smile, and it's an honest one--because he isn't sure.]

It's a lot to take in, you know? I am happy it means I won't ever be a risk to anyone else, though.

[Above all else, that's the one thing he's grateful for. The rest is a lot more complicated.]

[medals]

Kier.

[A hand squeezes his arm, firm and serious. ] You're not a risk to anyone. You weren't.

[depressiveoptimist]

Without medication? With wackos being able to lace things with blue oblivion? I could be.

[He squeezes her hand back.]

But that is all better; it means that others are going to get better too. It--it means a way out. For everyone.