Work Text:
The moon blooms in the night sky, so we skitter and skat about, overlapping each other and our sweet siren sounding human. Walter walks over the music hand and Templeton teethes the hat off his sleepy head. Surfer oversees, ghostly to eyes, always underground when we work at day, pulling us back into safe dirt to sleep when hurt.
Socrates and Scrabble run together as always, a place on Franz' chest claimed already. Samuel and Anna take the knees, somehow preferring the boney parts of him. Ripred is old from adventures and nestles up a sleeve. Ratine is keeping everything in order, cleaning out the music stick for tomorrow's performance. Nicodemus sprawls longways on one of Franz’ legs while Melchisedec takes the other part, using Franz' handkerchief as a blanket.
Ben sleeps against the ear, and Dan' Beans the other. Some say Mr. Dan' Beans is the only one here who doesn't care for the song of songs, but no one believes him, for the notes are so sweet we may die and die again for him.
Lariska pulls Surfer off his work and onto the warm body of our human, curling up somewhere nice and motioning for the crawl to end. We have all found our spots, and so we sleep. Franz will need us come morning.