( He only understands about half (...maybe less) of what Will tells to him. But he doesn't need to fully grasp everything; he's enthralled by what he can understand. By the shapes of words, the images of characters and movement, decisions and experience. He lies there silently, breathing in and out very slowly, tucked happily there in the sand close to the boy with the soft voice, eyes, and hands. His mind clings to the story, attentive, focused.
But eventually, he drifts into sleep. Lulled into a light slumber, fueled by a sense of comfort and security. His sand-coated eyelashes are closed; his mouth is gently parted. He seems very peaceful there, for a few long moments.
....Until abruptly, his eyes open again, and someone's crying out softly, pushing himself up from the sand and away from the boy so close to him. )
What'reyoudoingtome—
( It comes out like one long word, the separate pieces fused together as his tongue lags, as he tries to make sense of his words all over again. Only it's someone different this time; one sleeps, one wakes. )
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But eventually, he drifts into sleep. Lulled into a light slumber, fueled by a sense of comfort and security. His sand-coated eyelashes are closed; his mouth is gently parted. He seems very peaceful there, for a few long moments.
....Until abruptly, his eyes open again, and someone's crying out softly, pushing himself up from the sand and away from the boy so close to him. )
What'reyoudoingtome—
( It comes out like one long word, the separate pieces fused together as his tongue lags, as he tries to make sense of his words all over again. Only it's someone different this time; one sleeps, one wakes. )