diadem inbox.

[unquiets]

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Voice — Text

"You've reached David. Leave a message after the tone."

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[unquiets]

Is there ugly anything on cereal boxes here?

Why would it need to have the tiger? I'm not 10.
It's about the taste.

[carmesi]

You showed me an image of a tiger cereal box.

( ????? what do you mean? that messages sounds like a scoff from her end. )

Milk? Yogurt?

( this muesli fiend )

[unquiets]

Because you asked what Frosted Flakes were. I showed you Frosted Flakes.
Would just a bowl of cereal have helped? It's not like you can tell the difference between oval, corn-based cereal visually.
Oh, okay, that one's yellow.

...What about milk and yogurt?

[carmesi]

( there's other colors? she just grabs at a few boxes that show an image of cereal topped by strawberries. she doesn't actually think there are real strawberries in the box. should she get him, like, a toy or surprise for each box?

hmm... )

Do you have milk or yogurt with cereal?

[unquiets]

Milk.
Please don't get skimmed.
Do you eat your cereal dry?

( perhaps he should establish what cereal she does eat before asking that question. )

[carmesi]

I don't like skimmed. I'm getting normal milk.
I have it with yogurt and honey. Fruits if there are any.

[unquiets]

Thank God.
"It"?

1/2

[carmesi]

( hey )

[carmesi]

Muesli?

[unquiets]

( immediately— )

Oh, so you liked eating paper as a child.

[carmesi]

Sometimes paper was all we had to fill our stomachs.

1/2

[unquiets]

[unquiets]

That's cheating.

[carmesi]

Maybe, but you won't know if it's true or not.

[unquiets]

( mm. )

You wouldn't lie to me.

( :) )

[carmesi]

So, you think that me eating paper as a kid is funny. That's very mean, David.

[unquiets]

( ugh. )

That's not what I meant.

[carmesi]

Got you.

( her feelings are not hurt. he's fine; sometimes you gotta be able to joke about the worst time of your life. )

We didn't eat paper, for the record. We always had food even if it was very little. If you share your frosted flakes, I will try them.

[unquiets]

That's mean.

( punctuated by a pause, a break in his thoughts. he knows it's not something he can relate to — the scarcity, the fear, the ever-present threat.

and so, for now, he doesn't linger on it. )

We've got to find them first, me or you.
But if you like muesli, you're not gonna like them.

[carmesi]

It's not.

( he'll live. )

I might not, but I can also figure that out when I try. I didn't find a frosted flakes one, but I found some cereal with a lot of sure. You can try it out whenever.

[unquiets]

You don't like "too sweet".

( the wine. the accompanying thought is almost entirely unbidden, tangential. )

You mean, the morning?
Unless you're saying you think I eat breakfast for dinner.

( he can, will, and has. )

sugar* wheeze

[carmesi]

Thanks for remembering.

( she doesn't see the problem? she can not like her wine 'too sweet', but she can enjoy other things being slightly sweeter.

hopefully, david can feel the roll of her eyes. )

I'm not saying that, but I now also think you do.

( did david not notice that they literally only had breakfast the day before, then gummies, water, and (too sweet) wine as sustenance for the rest of the day? it's not like wanda has a better relationship with food at this time. )

You could wake me up at three in the morning telling me that you wanted to eat a bowl of sugary cereal and that would be alright. I don't know when you're getting back.

I also took your car for the groceries.

( btw and fyi )

[unquiets]

( david did notice, but not in any real way that struck him as especially unusual. sometimes you just have a busy day and all you really eat is breakfast, right? right. )

I'm not waking you at three in the morning, that's not okay. Not even a little bit. Especially not for cereal.
Anyway, I'll be back before then.

( what did he say about not being a child? )

Okay? I wasn't using it.

( that is Fine, wanda. )

[carmesi]

( david draws some hard lines about hypothetical things, it's a little funny. wanda also knows that he's not a fan of driving, but normal people do ask for permission or at least tell each other about using someone else's property. suppose that the okay? answers that. they're very much not the conversation type when figuring out what works or doesn't, brute-forcing it first and then talking about it.

wanda's response is a pretty quiet but dismissive yeah, okay almost veering into whatever territory by sentiment alone. you could almost picture her rolling her eyes.

some time later, she sends him an image of her own. a book amidst a nicely-kept shelf of books, turning it over in her hand so he can see the back, too. there's an excited thrum in how she shares this, a bit of a chime𖥔 ࣪ ˖ as it were, before it fades to black.

she goes back to something he said— )

—you can't create Frosted Flakes? You changed the apartment.

[unquiets]

( he picks up on the eyeroll, and he ignores the eyeroll. it was an implied 'she can use the car whenever she wants' — or rather, whenever david's not using it — because he's not that precious about things. personal belongings aren't something he's ever had much attachment towards, part necessity, part... that's just how things have ended up. it's not like anyone bothered with ideas of mine in (his) englightenment house. it's not like it matters. it's about — helping each other. not being selfish.

later, when she sends through that excited image of a book, it's met with what amounts to a laugh, fond, bright. surprised. and then a quick— )

Studying?

( before— )

I can't make food.

( can he? in truth, he's never tried. he's turned one thing into another — inanimate object into inanimate object — and then there's the vapour, but food? no. not in any real way. the tea at the house, he could do that, but it wasn't really real. it was the perception of real, and though that's arguably the same thing, in terms of nutrition—.

hmm.
food for thought, as it were. )

I can't heal. I can't create life. I can't time travel. If you're happy with eating an illusion, a projection, then sure. I can make Frosted Flakes. Your brain will think its eating, and your body might too, right up until it realizes it hasn't actually got anything from whatever bowl you've just eaten.

Changing the apartment was just... rearranging things. Perception and interpretation. What something is matters less than what your brain thinks it is.