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[ Pavlova is generally a very mild mannered child everything considered. He has his moments, but he is generally well behaved even if he's huffy about it. Finding out his dad had gone and gotten himself killed on purpose right away even though they weren't sure the Forest would hold his end of the deal- that had greatly upset him. He doesn't like his father using himself as a guinea pig, and he likes it even less that Lily followed suit, leaving him alone for a while. Thankfully it wasn't too long.

Either way this mess resulted in the boy being a bit clingy, and when his father settled down eventually, Pavlova crawled right into his arms and was not taking no for an answer. He will have his apology cuddles.

Falling asleep was not intentional, but he found the warmth soothing, like when he was still a little doughy and his father still made trips to see him. ]

[He accepted Pavlova's fussing because he knew he was doing something that the boy wouldn't approve of, and he knew he was being a wretched hypocrite about it, leaving him alone, even just for a day. He was still glad he did it, because he could at least prove that the Forest was keeping his end of the bargain so far, and for now he had his sight back.]

[Getting to look at his son was worth the consequences, he thinks.]

[But that's a very sappy thing to admit so he doesn't, instead he lets them settle in his and Lily's inn room for a nap and before they both no it, they're out.]

[That is when Pavlova might find himself wandering the halls of a familiar place. Somewhere he hasn't seen since he was very young. Pristine milky white floors that shimmer like the stars, tall pillars and columns wrapped in gold, and the night sky dancing above them on the ceiling. It's the Spire of Knowledge. Does he remember the way?]

[ Pavlova Cookie hasn't stepped foot inside the spire for hundreds if not thousands of years. The best he had when awake were hazy recollections cast in the bright warmth an innocence of childhood. True childhood, when he had actually been only a few years old at best.

No, he hasn't been there in ages, but... he wandered these halls often in his dreams, taking comfort in the blue hues and the warmth of what he remembered of his father. So he's not surprised to be here, he thinks this is a normal dream for now, if... strangely vivid.

It's distant. He doesn't know the exact room, but he knows he has to go up. His hand trails along the banister of the stairs as he makes his way upwards. The Spire is so quiet. Lonely. He wonders how he never noticed as a child. Was it always like this?

The Fount has never been very clear in his memory. His father had many guises over the years, and Pavlova at least has never been fussy what his father looked like when he visited. Usually it was clear enough to him who his father was when he saw him... But given how big the Spire was, he realized he might be guessing doors all night. He doubts he would be too upset if he called for him right? It was so quiet in here it would probably carry... ]

Dad?

[There is a sudden spark of light that will appear before Pavlova. A shining little starburst that maybe Pavlova remembers being in orbit around his father once upon a time. It flitters a bit like a fairy before leading Pavlova down the hall.]

[It will take him to a grand looking office, the top of the tower. It's big windows around them, showing the outside while it's occupant remains ever behind the glass. The walls that are not windows are stacked in book cases, there are celestial instruments hanging above and at the desk there is someone familiar.]

[Just totally flopped over on his work, buried in his long milky, starlight hair, is the Fount.]

[ He does recognize it vaguely, enough to know to follow it at least. He flutters after it, pausing in the doorway to take in the room. It's impressive, a little intimidating, not that he thinks he has anything to fear. Mostly, he finds he just doesn't want to be a nuisance. His dad looks so busy.

It's a moment that he stands there, but he sneaks back out into the hall briefly and tries to recall a little better what the spire's insides were like. He doesn't think his father's room was too far from his office.

It's a bit of searching- this dream is really weirdly detailed, but he does eventually find it and what he's looking for. A hairbrush. He hasn't been able to really do this for his father lately since his hair is so much shorter right now... and he was always a little scared that brushing the eyes would hurt. But that's not a problem right now, and he makes his way back to the office, coming inside properly this time.

... He still doesn't speak right away, but he does come up to the side of the desk and peer over to see what he's working on.]

[And as he comes closer, Pavlova will notice something that would have been hard to take note of all the way from the door.]

[It's that his father, leaned over his work with the illusion of being busy and diligent.]

[Is fast asleep.]

[Of course the moment Pavlova gets close, he snorts attractively, startling himself awake. He sputters a little, looking around. Pav will note some ...interesting things about him as he does. He is covered in cracks, and his edges look a little crumbly.]

A-Ah??

Dad..?

[ There's no small amount of worry there. Things were never easy for his father, he knew that in concept, but he rarely remembered him showing as much to him when he was little. Or maybe he'd been too little to process just how bad it was. The thought makes him feel guilty. ]

You... Look like you need to rest.

[ It does make sense that he'd work himself to the edge of crumbling. All of the virtues were so... consumed by their jobs. It hurts his heart to think about. ]

Let's go to your room maybe?

[Oh! He looks at Pavlova with no small amount of surprise.]

Cherub?

[But he smiles quickly, bringing back a smile. No, no don't worry about him.]

What a pleasant surprise! Ah, I haven't seen you for so very long, you've really grown up, haven't you...?

[Carefully covers his hands with his sleeves.]

I'm alright, little one, please don't worry.

Well, I'm not a baby dough anymore, at least!

[ He's not really sure if he hasn't aged just because he's related to the beasts so he ages slowly or if it has to do with the fact he's been effectively sealed for the past however long. Either way he's older than the Fount would be used to. ]

... Dad you're cracked and crumbling at the edges.

[ That's not what he would call okay. That's what he would call self-neglect. Or worse, depending. He's not really sure what it could be from. Either way the ship's sailed on worrying him. ]

What happened?

No, you most certainly are not!

[But he says that with a cryptic look in his eye. As for Pavlova's observation, he scoots his chair back a little, so he can turn it and face Pavlova properly. His robes cover his feet, but one has to wonder how much of him is still left.]

Do you know where you are? You must have fallen asleep near the Soul Jam, but this is ...no mere dream, I'm afraid. I am the Fount of Knowledge that still exists within your father.

[ Admittedly he seems... confused. And more than a little alarmed by the notion that what remains of the Fount is in such a condition. ]

I... Yeah. I did. Dad let Silent Salt kill him the other day... is that why you're hurt..?

[ His father turns towards him and his arms go out for a hug. It still doesn't... quite feel real, but he doesn't want to squander time with his father in this form. Witches know it's rare. ]

[Oh! While he feels a little uncertain, he does open his arms for him gently. Holds him delicately. He hasn't very much strength these days.]

Oh, well, I suppose a little, but not in the way you think.

[He pats his hair gently, pulling back so that he can look at him properly, really take him in. He smiles.]

One day I will crumble, but when that happens, it will be because he has stopped denying that I yet exist. We will be one and my form will no longer need to be trapped here. These cracks? They are a good thing. Progress.

I knew you were still here.

[ He mutters it softly as he hugs his dad, snuggled into the fabric of his robes. When he's pulled back and looked at he's a little bit sheepish. Things went so horribly wrong, he's turned a blind eye to some horrific things and aided with even more. On some level he expects judgement for it. For letting his mother fall so far. ]

... it looks painful. Are you in pain?

[ There's something poetic about it. The truth hurts, as they say. Accepting this won't be easy for his father. ]

[And the Fount gently strokes his hair, looking down at him fondly.]

It's not so bad, I am often just more tired.

[He sleeps for long stretches of time, perhaps those are the moment the two of them are closest to being properly together.]

Ah, but enough about that. You're here, and that is a grand occasion! Would you like tea? I would like to hear all the, how they say, hot gossip from that little town you live in now.

[ The affection helps. He settles down a little bit, life coming to his eyes at the mention of gossip. Witches knows he has plenty of that. ]

Sure- oh! I got your brush so I can brush your hair too. You must have been sleeping for a while. It didn't look very comfortable on your desk.

INBOX

FOUNT THREAD post SM dying to get his sight back

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