Wonder all you want about it, but I don't want to fathom it.

[Being an adult comes with its issues, but it's better than being a tiny, wriggly, nigh defenseless little thing.]

Gamzee's fine. He's like 3 sweeps old, give or take, and he neither has his memory nor his taste for sopor, meaning the bundle of corpse rot decided to club me in the knee when I came over to see what happened to him. I have since taken him under my watch, barely have a clue what I'm doing, and suspect that sooner or later I'll wind up tossing glitter around the hive in a half-sane prayer to his awful clown gods for safe passage through the rest of the curse.