[The child-thing's litany of complaint is guilelessly peevish, a wet, whining little creature that might twine around ankles in search of acknowledgement. It's an absurd reaction to this, the tugging unweaving of the mind and the assaults of these horrors.
Joy stares at him with startlement. Then, with a hiccuping burst, she laughs again. It's a bizarre, bell-like sound, something about it off-kilter and incorrect.]
It keeps happening! [She shakes her head hard enough that if her hair wasn't soaked, it would fly about her face.] Oh, Lord - it keeps happening.
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Joy stares at him with startlement. Then, with a hiccuping burst, she laughs again. It's a bizarre, bell-like sound, something about it off-kilter and incorrect.]
It keeps happening! [She shakes her head hard enough that if her hair wasn't soaked, it would fly about her face.] Oh, Lord - it keeps happening.