L̶I̶T̶T̶L̶E̶ ̶E̶L̶L̶I̶O̶T̶.

A clumsy little fist is rubbing at his ear and the side of his face, feeling a bit of pain and pressure there, most likely from the cold he’d had.

there’s a big grin that appears on his features, rushing over as quickly as his little legs would carry him. “papa-!”

he’s right here!

hands are immediately reaching for the familiar face, although it seems the familiarity is not reciprocated. “papa.”

oh, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 is his papa.

or his papa? wait—why does his papa have another baby in his arms?

is anyone going to tell him why this strange world is 𝙨𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙? where is his mama?

( sitting among the floor, rubbing at his nose with irritation )

( and of course, one could guess he’s awake irritated with the cold he’s caught. )

( it takes elliot a proper minute to even respond, blinking slowly just as another quiet little sneeze sounded. he twisted up his face as if offended by the sneeze, rubbing at it with a sticky hand. ) no… my nose.