Squirrels? Ipomoea’s brow furrows, a frown tipping the corners of his lips as he listens. He couldn’t make sense of it in his mind - squirrels always looked so happy, he had fed several acorns and other tree nuts during his walks in Viride. The idea that those innocent woodland creatures were to blame - no, he couldn’t even think of it.
Perhaps they were wrong.
“Maybe we don’t have to kill them,” he said softly, echoing Regis’ sentiments. ’And if we do…’ Suffice to say, Ipomoea would not be involved in that particular process.
He looks to Ulric, his mind turning slowly, far too slowly for comfort. “There has to be a way to stop them,” he agreed. But how? His mind went back to the forest before the fires, the way the squirrels had danced along in his trail, gathering the nuts he scattered after him. A brave few had even taken the treats directly from his telekinetic grasp, chattering happily as they ran off with their prize. They had seemed so happy, so peaceful… Surely those furry, happy creatures hadn’t intended to cause so much destruction?
The scene replayed over and over again in his mind, drowning out his thoughts.
hearts are breaking
wars are raging on
you’ve got me nervous
i’m at the end of my rope
hey, man, we can’t all be like you
i wish we were all rose-colored too
my rose-colored boy
@everyone !
”here am i!“
