[What really kills him is he wants to join them more often than he does, but sometimes he's just exhausted and has to find a quiet place so he can rest.
When Casita was rebuilt his room was on the same floor as the others' again, and had become the kind of inviting that it had been years and years ago. There were times, though, when he couldn't spend too long in it, too many conflicting thoughts swirling in his head. In fact, the only way he can really rest, sometimes, is to hide in a completely new hole in the wall.
Yes, a new hole. He'd begged and cajoled Casita into helping him create a new one, but the sapient house had a few tricks up its wainscoting, making it much easier for others to find it, this time. So when Luisa doesn't find him in his room a painting rattles against the wall and then swings open, revealing not so much a hole as a neat opening, planks laid down to make a sturdy walkway. It's a short distance to a space with a tapestry over it this time, soft dim light glowing behind it.
Behind the tapestry, instead of the tragic packrat space crammed full of desperate memories like what Mirabel had described, is a cozy little room with a dim lamp, a lot of books, a group of sleek little rats quietly doing... rat things, and a hammock with the object of her search nested in blankets and pillows and blinking sleepily at her.]
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When Casita was rebuilt his room was on the same floor as the others' again, and had become the kind of inviting that it had been years and years ago. There were times, though, when he couldn't spend too long in it, too many conflicting thoughts swirling in his head. In fact, the only way he can really rest, sometimes, is to hide in a completely new hole in the wall.
Yes, a new hole. He'd begged and cajoled Casita into helping him create a new one, but the sapient house had a few tricks up its wainscoting, making it much easier for others to find it, this time. So when Luisa doesn't find him in his room a painting rattles against the wall and then swings open, revealing not so much a hole as a neat opening, planks laid down to make a sturdy walkway. It's a short distance to a space with a tapestry over it this time, soft dim light glowing behind it.
Behind the tapestry, instead of the tragic packrat space crammed full of desperate memories like what Mirabel had described, is a cozy little room with a dim lamp, a lot of books, a group of sleek little rats quietly doing... rat things, and a hammock with the object of her search nested in blankets and pillows and blinking sleepily at her.]
Hm? Luisa? Wh's going on?