Karen
Distant sound of haoran's back pain

_ _ 

*Tap—* 

 *Tap—* 

 *Tap*

 "Hm. It's finished." 

It's the only sound that echoes through the dim common space other than his own footsteps, a slight murmur to no one in particular. His blank obsidian orbs would go down, then further down to look to his creation: it's been something he's been working on for a while, and though all it needed were a few minor fixes here and there, code was never his forte — he enjoyed building things physically, not so much typing lines of programming that would not work because it didn't feel like it that day, only to function perfectly fine the very next day. The inventor found himself both amused and frustrated by his findings, which eventually led to the inevitable completion of his robot. 

 Alas, this meant that Haoran, so invested in his own projects, basically disappeared from both the intranet and school life. 

He was rarely seen, if ever actually, outside of his dorm room when classes weren't mandatory and simply never opened intranet. Time went by much more quickly for Haoran himself than anyone else, and even when he *Did* Eventually open his phone again to check the public school forums, the (few) people he recognized were.. Gone. Onizaki being absent from internet was very much expected, but he found himself slightly surprised when he saw even the draconic student gone from what seemed like weeks or months of past conversations. It was then he decided he didn't want to bother with catching up by scrolling up all the way and reading through it all, figuring that he'd be able to do that himself at one point. 

 ...Except Haoran didn't really have anyone in particular to talk to about that, because even his roommate surely didn't know much either.. And because he didn't have friends.

He had been pacing around to see if the robot would follow him — the final feature he had to check. Despite it being concerningly late at night, Haoran would not be found in any form of sleepwear, his eyes glancing back to his completed work then to the watch tucked underneath the cuffs of his sleeve. 

**3:47 A.M.**

*<....>* 

 *<Well. I suppose sleep can be for another time.>* 

Slowly, and *Painfully*Awkwardly, he'd put down his hand so he wouldn't look at the time anymore. Was it even night time at this point? The sun would rise in a mere hour or so — Haoran turns around to see the skies above through a window behind him, and **It is not black.** It's fading into a lighter dark blue, and he even more quickly realizes that the sun rises at a nice 4 A.M in a country like Sweden, rather than the 5:00 A.M in China he's used to. He grimaces, and it's actually clear on his face, though it contorts instead to an expression of distaste — like a glare at the literal sky. 

"What time does the Sun rise in Sweden?" 

 He asks, hesitance filling his monotone voice. 

**"It rose at 3:57 A.M yesterday in Stockholm, Sweden."**

*<卧槽。>* (Wò cáo/ shit).
Bobby
I assumed it was siri lol

Did Uriel even *Have* A sleep schedule?

It was a valid question, with a simple answer: No. 

The waxing and waning of light in the sky did not affect when their luck would turn and the constant tugging of minds pulling, clawing, *Gnawing* At their own would finally succeed to find a grip; a yank, and Uriel managed to sleep almost the entire day away in the floor of their dorm. No doubt, their face-down planking on the carpet managed to spur some form of concern from Margo, but the girl had roomed with Uriel for... God knows how long, and was used to their quirks at this point. 

Gloved hands stifle a yawn over their mouth, and they watch the gradient of the sky grow ever lighter in silence, piping hot cup of tea poised next to their arm on the coffee table. 

They could be reading a book, or knitting a gift, or studying some concepts in class that eluded them, or checking in on the emotionally volatile residents of the Cradle with a steady voice and a soft hand.

They could be, and yet... Perhaps Uriel wanted to bask in the silence of the soft twilight, feeling nothing weigh on their mind besides the sensation of the couch cushion against their back, and a warm, contented feeling in their chest. 

*Step. Step. Step*

3:47 AM, and yet... Those were certainly the sounds of footsteps ricocheting against the tile floor. Uriel's perpetually tired, dark grey eyes look up in curiosity, and... 

"Oh," They say plainly, settling back into the couch with a contented hum. "It's just you, Haoran. And a... Friend, I see." A small smile.

Haoran. It was a... Painfully long time since they'd seen him around the Cradle, but his absence didn't surprise the other. He didn't seem the social type, always nose deep in an invention or other, time ticking away like sand through an hourglass while devoting hours to his craft.

Removed from reality, off in his own little world. It reminded Uriel of themself, and they couldn't stifle the small blossom of kinship that grew in their chest.
Karen
_ _ 

**"Oh,"**

Haoran stills, his head slowly turning to face the source of the non-robotic sound. The voice is familiar, but he can't immediately pin it on someone. A gentle voice, one weighed down with fatigue.. There could be only one person with such voice: 

 *<Uriel?>* 

He fully faces them now, and he looks at them smile at him. Haoran wants to apologize for being unable to smile back, because he's aware he is somewhat physically unable to — so he gives them a nod of acknowledgement, as friendly as a Wan can get it to look like. He half wonders why they're here so late at night, or maybe because they got an early rise? He nods again when Uriel mentions a 'friend', unable to stop his eyes from drifting to the robot following him around. Seeing Uriel actually awake after his return visit to the intranet is relieving, a sense of calm washing over him. 

 That was one thing off of his mind, at least. Only a few more problems to go. 

** "It's just you, Haoran. And a... Friend, I see."**

"Uriel." 

He responds curtly, as a greeting. It's been.. A very long time since he's last met them. He didn't realize just how much time he spent away from the people he could consider as friends — Hatzume briefly entered his mind, he wondered how she was doing as well — that they seemed.. Surprised to see him. He looks to the empty spot on the couch, and blinks. He's nearly about to give them another curt nod to leave, but realizes he doesn't entirely want that for once. After days of almost total silence.. Maybe it was time to talk to someone, even if it was for a bit.

 *<...Killing some time might be nice. I haven't been able to talk to even Craig for a while.>* 

He approaches the couch, looking to Uriel for silent approval for him to sit down next to them. When or if he does, Haoran only quietly places himself on the plush seat, a comfortable distance away from the other person there to give them personal space. The robot follows him diligently, placing itself downwards beside his feet. 

"It's been a while. I have to apologize for my absence. I had.."

He pauses, remembering the call he received from his father. Haoran wonders, just how many more months he has to enjoy in the safety of academy before having to return to reality. He would return to his previous life, his last name much more important than his first. Despite missing the presence of his younger siblings, not having any other responsibility other than to be a normal student felt nice. 

"...Things I had to tend to. Is this an early rise of yours, or that you just haven't slept yet?" 

 *<It's weird to speak so casually when it's not in my head.>*
Bobby
Haoran stops to take a seat next to Uriel, and their soft expression only lightens up further. 

"Apologize? There's no need to apologize for being gone— we all have lives outside of the Cradle, and things have been..." They trail off, tilting their head to properly gauge the correct adjective to use. "Hectic, as of late." They tentatively settle for, the thickly-accented syllables rolling smoothly off their tongue and tinting the morning air sweet. 

"It's a bit odd, isn't it? Far away here, in the outskirts of Sweden... My day-to-day life is so drastically different than my usual routine that this all seems... Well, like a dream, doesn't it?" They let out a soft, bemused laugh at their joke, and turn to properly face Haoran.

Vigilante angels, conspiracies, *Friends*, ideas that had been swirling in their head ever since they'd taken their stalwart position at the foot of the couch and elected to observe the time pass by. What coincidence, then, that an old friend would wander in at the wee hours of the morning. 

"Oh, right," A delicate aroma drifts from their mug as Uriel's lips settle on the ceramic rim to drink the bitter tea. "...Neither, I suppose. I managed to fall asleep immediately after classes, and woke up only a few hours ago. This is my 'afternoon' today, so it seems." Their gaze drifts towards the window once again, tracing the faint twinkle of the constellations in silent appreciation. 

"I'll assume you haven't slept, given your track record. While I do desire to see my friends take care of themselves... I can't say I'm too displeased, considering it's led me to share this small moment with you." A tiny puff of air escapes from their lungs, too gentle to be considered a laugh. 

*Here for the long haul, then.* At the realization of Haoran's lingering company, Uriel's hands drift towards the tie of their braid; pulling and tugging at the various woven stands of snow-white hair, tightening the loose hairband keeping their handiwork in place.

/*Text just to keep the thread alive*/
Karen
_ _ 

Haoran isn't sure how to respond to the reassurance, and he isn't sure what to make of Uriel's new expression. It seems to be a positive response, he assumes, so he doesn't change his position sitting on the couch next to them. He resorts to nodding instead when Uriel comments on the academy's situation, and Haoran can't disagree. He had seen one too many new faces to remember upon re-entering the forums, and an entire angel event he missed completely. 

Despite their rather soft voice, they're able to stop Haoran's train of thought with a side comment and it's like Uriel can read his mind. (Can they? He doesn't remember this new property of dream weaving.) He frowns slightly when the other figure lets out a chuckle, internally debating if Uriel had been stepping inside his dreams somehow. He decides to trust the weaver and his notebook which he *Knows* Does not contain any mind reading), a slightly amused huff coming out of Haoran instead of a laugh (it sounds like a scoff because this is Haoran) when he finally gets the pun. 

"I guess it does. My life here is vastly more relaxing than my life back home, angels included." 

He reponds, but maybe 'relaxing' isn't the *Right* Word even though it does apply. No, it was freedom. Haoran had the freedom to choose what he wanted, who he could talk to and what he wanted to do. It was everything he had wanted ever since he was a child, and now, with the opportunity actually presented to him, he wasn't sure what to do with it. The obvious thing was to spend as much time on robotics while he still could, but making friends was embarassingly second to that. 

Haoran looks at the mug and blinks in surprise. He didn't even notice the presence of it until now, and that's when the fatigue begins to hit him. He curls his index finger and presses a knuckle against his lips to stifle a yawn, tilting his head as Uriel spoke. 

** "...Neither, I suppose. I managed to fall asleep immediately after classes, and woke up only a few hours ago. This is my 'afternoon' today, so it seems."**

*<......That's hardly any better than my situation.>*

Before Haoran can even respond, though, he's immediately caught red-handed. He freezes up momentarily, before realizing that being caught up so late at night didn't entirely matter when the person catching him wasn't a staff member at his house or, worst case scenario, one of his parents. 

"...Yes, I haven't slept." 

He confesses to his crime, and it feels strange for someone to remember his habits. He recalls, though, when Craig's reminders for Haoran to sleep slowly became a routine over time. In fact, Haoran could be brushing his teeth getting ready for bed only to receive a reminder to go to sleep. (It seemed as if Craig knew he'd be back to work right after.) 

"That's kind of you. I feel more comfortable if you're one the first that I talk to.. Though I have to admit that I was mainly relieved you weren't in a coma. Someone on the intranet said so. I got worried." 

Haoran comments, looking up to the slowly lightening sky. The Sun would rise soon. 

"What happened? While I was gone, at least. Anything I should know?"
Bobby
"While you were gone... Ah, yes, that coma."

A small pause as a look of... Was that *Embarrassment?* Creeps onto their face. 

"An angel logged onto the intranet, and managed to send a photo of their headquarters before being banned. Both Mattias and Margo, two students here, ended up approaching the tower and staying there for a couple of days. I..."

Uriel's grip on their tea mug tightens as their platinum eyebrows furrow with emotion. Their gaze drifts down to the surface of the light-green drink, staring intently at the distorted version of themself trapped in their reflection. 

An image of them, yet... *Wrong*, the surface of their skin rippling in the tea's surface. Almost a humanoid face, but not *Quite.*

"Margo told me the night before she would be off, and that I shouldn't try to stop her. So... I didn't try to tell her what she should do, even though I knew how dangerous it was. And the more I sat in my dorm, the more the sudden silence of her absence weighed on me, and the more I could feel what I did— no, what I failed to do— choke the air out of my lungs." A pathetic laugh escapes their lips, and the not-quite Uriel straining against the drink's surface disappears as they take another desperate sip.

"So, I knocked myself out, and monitored Margo and Mattias' condition while I was asleep. I believe it was... A total of four days, spent inside the echoes of my own head. When I finally woke up, it was a bit disorientating, as one would expect." 

A breath, as Uriel finally manages to pause. Haoran's simple request of "What happened?" Spurred far, far, *Far* Too many feelings than they should have allowed themself to express. They couldn't help themselves; he was a good listener, and his similar demeanor practically invited them to confide things they wouldn't normally tell others.

Uriel's other hand politely waves the tense air away, as they turn back to meet Haoran's gaze and put on a tiny smile. 

"Ah, but.. That was all a while ago, so there's no need to worry or dwell. Since then, there hasn't been any development with the Angels— for the best, especially since we know what they can do."

/*Should be more frequent with posts now that my boyf is gone, so~!*/
Karen
TOMORROW AFTER SCHOOL sorry for the lack of posts should be daily after today 👍 /

_ _ 

Haoran turned to look at Uriel, stilling when he saw what seemed like shame form onto their gentle expression. He frowned, not because he was disappointed, but because he was confused. Of all the reactions he expected, he didn't expect embarrassment — from someone like Uriel he expected a quick and brash reassurement that they were alright, that the coma wasn't a *Big* Deal, so he was rather stumped at the answer he didn't consider. 

"I see." 

*<Another angel sighting? I didn't think they wouldn't be involved in it, and yet..>* 

Maybe Haoran was concerned? Worried? Was that the term? He wasn't sure, but nevertheless a creeping feeling crawled up his neck like a grapevine. He looked at their expression, and his 'oh-no-someone-is-sad' feeling was kicking in. He stiffened up nearly immediately, unsure of what to do and how to comfort Uriel.

**"And the more I sat in my dorm, the more the sudden silence of her absence weighed on me, and the more I could feel what I did— no, what I failed to do— choke the air out of my lungs." **

Numerous responses to the statement ran through his mind, yet none left his mouth. Nonsense, he thought, for the dreamweaver to look down on themselves in that way. Their laugh felt painful, but Haoran couldn't tell what it was that made it sound so.. *Sad.* Was Uriel just chuckling casually, or was it something? Were they laughing at themselves? He didn't grasp any of it, and his hand that sat so rigidly on his palm twitched. 

He nods when they continue speaking, letting out a hum of acknowledgement every now and then to show that he was still listening despite the omission of proper responses. Such a simple question was answered with too many emotions, too many feelings he couldn't properly process — well, that wasn't the word.. Tackle? Tackle. Emotions were like math problems he needed to solve, and a mathematics far too irrational and advanced for him to master. His lips pursed slightly, his mouth opened ajar as if he wanted — or felt like he needed to say something. 

**"Ah, but.. That was all a while ago, so there's no need to worry or dwell. Since then, there hasn't been any development with the Angels— for the best, especially since we know what they can do."**

"..." 

*<I think that was my job to tell Uriel that. That there's no need to worry or dwell.>*

Hesitantly, and he pauses mid-way, he places an awkward hand on Uriel's shoulder, giving them a few reassuring pats on the back. He used to do this whenever his siblings felt down, but the older they grew the more distant they became so it had been... Quite some time. He inhales sharply, before he finally forms the words he wants to say. 

"I strongly believe you did the right thing, Uriel. You did more than what was needed of you. That's something I can respect."
Bobby
I'm responding in the am but I want you to know I love Haoran w all my soul

The touch felt... Nice, even if it was unexpected. A sharp inhale, and the foreign weight against their back pulled them back into the present, grounding them to their surroundings.

Haoran was kind, too kind, even if he looked intimidating at a glace. Quiet, yes, but it meant the words he *Did* Say held extra weight, and they cherished the comfort he provided dearly. 

A good person, they thought. No, not a person, a *Parahuman.* The debt they owed him for his company only grew with every soft touch against their back, and they silently vowed to repay him someday.

"Ah, but how rude of me," They mumble quietly, their voice growing stronger as the patting on their back resumes. "I've been droning on about my woes, that I've completely neglected to greet the new guest." A half-hearted laugh escapes from their lips as their gaze drops to meet the mechanical creature's surface.

*How rude, really. I wonder how Mom would think of my manners...* 

Uriel runs their long, slender fingers against its sleek surface, almost like how would run their hands through the soft fur of a pet. It wasn't *Alive*, that they knew, but it only seemed polite to subscribe to the notion the metal structure following Haoran obediently had the same internal thought processes a dog would have. They wouldn't be surprised if that was the case— the machine had been the fruit of Haoran's constant labor over the past couple of months, and perhaps the harvest of the inventor's mind included artificial sentience.

"Hello, esteemed guest. Would you like some tea?" Uriel cooes at it, letting out a soft laugh before turning back to meet Haoran's gaze. 

"Ah... Does it have a name? And, well... What does it do, exactly?" They tilt their head from side to side, attempting to study the robot's exterior for signs of its intended function while idly running the pad of their thumb against its top.

"I'm curious. You've been working on it for how long? I'm already impressed with what it's been able to do."
Karen
_ _ 

Haoran lets go of their shoulder after a few moments when they begin speaking again, his eyes following Uriel's to see their reaction. They didn't seem to be *Against* It, so it seemed that today had been a mini victory for him: not making a friend uncomfortable! Being able to sit next to a schoolmate, to talk to them — he could hardly believe it. Perhaps it was time for him to come outside of his dorm and the workshops more often, he considered, his eyes finally stopping at the robot by his feet. 

**"I've been droning on about my woes, that I've completely neglected to greet the new guest." **

*<New guest? That's a robot. Robots aren't guests?>* 

He watches Uriel.. Stroke the robot as if it were a pet, and he watches them with curiosity, tilting his head slightly. He would object to this — after all, pieces of metal bolted together and operated via a board wasn't exactly pet-material, but who was he to protest when they were laughing again? He decided that now wasn't the best time to ruin the mood, so he would just nod, letting out an amused huff when Uriel asks if the robot wants tea in an attempt to follow their laugh. He doesn't have the courage to properly laugh, seeing as the last time he did he made his younger sibling cry — but he had to do with what was given to him via genetic lottery. 

**"Ah... Does it have a name? And, well... What does it do, exactly?"**

...

 *<Oh. Right. A name...>* 

"...I haven't made one up. I was too busy trying to finish it to give it any name." 

He points out as if it were a given, looking at the metal work below him. It looked like a headless dog, with four legs and a flat body. He knew, though, that it could take on more forms than that. Haoran made it so that it would, after all. 

"Its like my own personal assistant, I suppose. It helps me carry heavy objects I can't because of my anemia, it answers questions by vocal command, it cleans.. Usually I'd place it in my dorms for it to do its job, but I wanted to test how well it could follow me." 

Haoran explains as briefly as he can, surprised that someone *Wanted* To know about his creations. Back then it was him and no one else — the kids at school hardly found the things he did 'normal' let alone impressive, and he knew his family would've lectured him long enough if they found even a speck of proof that he had been dabbling in his hobby again. He pauses at the realization, before his eyes turn to the side sheepishly. 

"A month or two, I believe.. I've lost track of time." 

He answers, before looking back at the robot. 

"...Why don't you give it a name, Uriel?"
Bobby
Bonk
Unarchiving here so it doesnt delete my progress if i click off

"A name? Hm... Let's see." The thin ribbons of stream from still-hot tea clutched between Uriel's hands dissipated in the sleepy, stew-like atmosphere the pair had cloaked themselves. Was that intentional, or simply a product of unusual circumstance? The space between spaces the two seemed to occupy? 

"Have you read *Around the World in 80 Days?* It's a French adventure novel, published in the 1800s. It was one of my favorite books growing up— I loved the descriptions of the faraway, foreign countries, the nail-biting obstacles the protagonist has to overcome in order to meet the deadline. There's most likely a copy in Chinese, too— perhaps you might enjoy it, if you have extra free time? Although... Given your work load, I do doubt it." 

There was something in the air, Uriel reckoned. It relaxed their tongue, made their eyelids drunk and heavy. Did it make their thoughts murkier with fatigue, or clearer? They couldn't tell— perhaps a bit of both, in its own, paradoxical way. Down was up, left was right, and in this momentary breath, Uriel voiced their mind.

"I've always rather enjoyed books like that, I suppose. Ones about exploration." Another sip of tea. They were going to run out soon, Uriel realized, as the thin translucence of the colored drink grew fainter and fainter with every drop. "I guess the thought appealed to me greatly— I yearned to leave the confines of my tiny hometown, and the only sense of discovery was venturing into the dark woods that kissed my town's worn-down cobblestone paths and the long, overgrown pampas grass patches by the bakery. Reading about the potential the world outside my home held... It gave me hope."

__ __

*And who knew my only venture outside of France would be in prison.* An idle thought bubbled to the top of their mind, and they fashioned the hasty would-be remark a tight leash before it could escape from their throat and dart out their mouth. 

"Well, hope, and a little bit of inspiration for my dreams, too. An artist always needs that, no?" 

A laugh, like a feather. Delicately flitting about the wind, beautiful as the wind's gentle caress made it dance. A feather, and yet oh-so eager to run, for breeze to breeze to carry it far, far away from too-serious subject matters and old, unfulfilled childhood hopes.

"Ah, but— I've went off topic. For a name, I was thinking... Passepartout. It's the main character's butler, and he ventures around the world with him, wherever his adventures may lead him. It reminded me of it assisting you, is all." 

Uriel spoke within the spaces between breaths— in pauses, in slight hesitation, in the time where shadows remained frozen in place while people danced. They talked, and it was the slow crawl of the morning sun, not-yet blessing the Swedish city with the warm embrace of sleepy sunbeams. The uncertainty of 'morning' or 'night' mirrored the barely-noticeable tremor in their voice. 

They spoke, and it was twilight.

 "Do you like it?"

Just unarchuving the thread so I don't forget LOL
Karen
_ _ 

Haoran looked at Uriel as they thought, slightly wishing he had a cup of tea to keep him occupied. They don't seem to be protesting about his request, though, which relieves him slightly. He thinks that it'll be a longer moment of silence between the two before Uriel answers once more, so he takes the time to tilt his head forward slightly and close his eyes.

**"Have you read Around the World in 80 Days?"**

His eyes shoot back open, glancing at Uriel — though it looks more like a glare on accident — when they begin speaking. The Wan pauses, before shaking his head once he notices how foreign the title seems to him. While books weren't a problem for him, he rarely picked those of fiction unless it was required for his English classes. He had never quite seen what a typical fiction book would look like, and his curiosity had never been piqued.. Until now. 

**"There's most likely a copy in Chinese, too— perhaps you might enjoy it, if you have extra free time?"**

"I'll have.. *It* Remind me." 

Haoran pauses awkwardly as he quickly realizes how convenient it would be to actually give the small robot a name, rather than calling it 'it' and 'robot' all the time. He felt like he could trust at least their taste in books, and surely if there was a copy in Chinese from a French adventure novel, it had to be good enough to become a classic. He will make sure that he'll give it a read.. Or at least ask a certain sibling of his if they had read the book. He was slightly wary of such thing, though, fearing another 2 hour lecture about a book he didn't understand. 

**"I've always rather enjoyed books like that, I suppose. Ones about exploration.**

 *<...?>* 

He turns to face them as if to check if they were saying the right thing — if they meant to tell him that. Uriel seemed to have gone off-track with their response, but Haoran wouldn't comment. He did not, however, want Uriel to share with him something personal to them that they'd regret later. They don't seem to mind though, and so he says nothing as they talk about their past. The words that they use are vaguely defined in his mind, English that he can grasp using context clues but words that he wouldn't be able to explain if asked. 

"You have never travelled?" 

He asks, with a slight hint of hesitation in his voice. Well, they *Have* Travelled.. Just to an institute for the troubled, and not so much a vacation. They laugh, and it's light, and most likely genuine. He doesn't laugh with them, but it *Feels* Like he has. His mouth doesn't even twitch. 

"I guess so. You *Are* An artist." 

Haoran responds, this time with words instead of just gestures with his head. 

**"Ah, but— I've went off topic. For a name, I was thinking... Passepartout. It's the main character's butler, and he ventures around the world with him, wherever his adventures may lead him. It reminded me of it assisting you, is all." ** 

*<Pass.. Passe... Passepartout?>* 

 *<Hm. I guess Passepartout is now named Passepartout.*

"I see. Passepartout. It's a creative name — I will use it." 

He glances back at the robot, before giving it a brief tap. As Uriel asks his opinions, Haoran spends no time idle-ing on whether or not the name is good. It's perfect, and he has no objections. 

"You will now go by Passepartout." 

He says, and the bot makes a sound — like a confirmation beep of sorts. Passepartout was now Passepartout, a useful assistant for as long as he needed it. 

"It's a good name. It's a mouthful, though."
Bobby
Responding today swag

WAUGH OK TMRW I SWEAR 
Cousins came over — T_T

"No, I've never traveled. My mother doesn't have the funds for it. Ah, but... I do plan on traveling often if I ever get the chance. There's so much to see in the world, it'd be a shame to spend it all in an office... Or in my bed." Uriel gives a soft chuckle at their addition. 

*Would* They ever get to see the world outside of France? If their future life plans played out, they'd surely manage to explore life outside of the confines of a small, lavender-scented village. Still... The thought of *Growing up*, of someday blossoming into an adult made something uncomfortable stir within them. It all seemed fake, an unobtainable dream, a happily-ever-after that would never actually come true. 

*One day, it will.* Uriel reminded themselves, and steeled their resolve. 

"A mouthful? I suppose you're right. Hmm... I think I could perhaps slim it down, but... Oh well." 

Uriel hums to themselves contently. Haoran's blessing of christening the new robot with a name felt nice in their chest, almost akin to the feeling of a crackling fire place lodged between their ribs. 

"I'd say you're an artist too, though. Creating something from nothing is the definition of art, and, well..." A soft smile, as they resume petting the top of the robot's chassis. 

"Look at Passepartout. I'd say he fits the bill as a work of art, you know?" 

The sun was rising in the sky now, murky twilight once again illuminated in the soft glow of morning. *Perhaps the light of day wasn't so bad*, Uriel thought to themselves, as they examined the warm pastel colors of the Swedish city in the morning sun. The sun might have brought the end of rest, but it also brought a new beginning.

Also i find this hilarious

Sorry about that RIP
Karen
_ _
**"My mother doesn't have the funds for it. Ah, but... I do plan on traveling often if I ever get the chance."**

Haoran stared at Uriel blankly. He had, in his secluded community, rarely seen others who rarely travelled — even more rarely because of their financial situation. A solution immediately formulates in his mind like clockwork, and he extends the offer without giving it a second thought. 

"I'll remember to take you on trips once we both graduate. I can show you around China — and I could cover the costs." 

He says, pondering the idea *After* He's said it. He wouldn't mind, though he wondered slightly himself if Uriel would want to even take a step close to the rather infamous nation. If they wanted to, then it could be done over a mere calls to certain people. 

*<"Once' does seems daunting.. I wonder how long I will take myself..>* 

He had to leave on time for college, he knew. Time was slowly running out, and he would have to eventually either train his abilities more or plan on entering university late. 

**"A mouthful? I suppose you're right. Hmm... I think I could perhaps slim it down, but... Oh well." **

"No. Passepartout rolls off the tongue well enough." 

Haoran immediately objects, finding himself growing more attached to the name with each passing second. Passepartout. It was hard to pronounce, and harder to pronounce without his accent getting in the way, but he liked how it sounded and it was good enough. He doesn't object as quickly when Uriel claims said robot was a 'work of art', because really it was a work of metal scraps and Haoran's laborous attempts at programming. He frowns at the robot in confusion, as if the inventor was staring intensely at it to find the speck of 'art' that the dreamweavber had claimed the robot was. 

"I see. I didn't know that." 

Is all he decides to answer with, because he still isn't sure how Passepartout is anything close to a masterpiece. Rather, it looks a bit... Bland. Lots of metal, and no color. Perhaps he should really look into getting it a bow for the butler look. 

His eyes look up, and he sees the changing color of the sky. The birds were beginning to chirp, and the fatigue was beginning to settle in. 

"Ah.. It's morning now. I do believe it is time for me to get my sleep, if I don't want to pass out later. Craig will give me another scolding."
Bobby
Uriel freezes, eyes widening in the most expressive face they've made at Haoran's generous offer. 

"You—? And me? You're—" They cough twice, looking at his eyes and back down at their feet. 

"You're very kind, Haoran. But... Ah, I don't know how that will all work out with college, and the Cradle. Still... I'll keep that in mind." Uriel smiles, doing their best to contort their face in a way to properly express the emotion bubbling in their heart. 

Haoran stands up to leave, and Uriel gives the other a polite wave before he disappears out of view. 

Morning had come, and Uriel was alone again.

—-