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The Witnessed Day stood half-awake in his own daydream as rocks conspired all around him to crush the bug. Full of hubris, he chose not to move – instead, he idly watched the rocks, attempting to divine a greater meaning to their being. There was none, of course – they were doomed to an existence of monotony, and this was their highlight. They simply lacked the capacity to aspire to something greater, let alone the ability to dream. He would mourn them, at some point to far off too see (but he could not tell whether that moment had long passed, or if it were yet to come). At the noise of Golby, he shushed his birdcalls, the thought of sustaining them having grown boring within the moment.

The Witnessed Day, tired, turned only one set of his eyes toward Golby. He cocked his head at the mention of teamwork but said nothing about how he was mostly unaware of the others. He had no mouth to receive doughnuts, so he did not gesture to receive them. It took him a few moments to gather the will to think his steps out, and he slowly lumbered his form toward the gathering. He took stock of his would-be comrades, measuring their worth in his eyes. In his arrogance, he only noted the Helium Frightful as interesting enough to study in its entirety, and watched as it swirled to the beat.

Swirls in the sky made him hungry for thoughts about flying. Perhaps he would dream himself such an ability when he was allowed to sleep, as it always seemed appealing. Maybe he’d go bigger, too. The living vessel had certainly been a force to be feared, and had he not been so focused on other thoughts (especially those annoying leg-thoughts he was forced to maintain), he might have reacted with the appropriate response of avoiding the situation entirely. He thought about being a flying worm – then he wouldn’t need to worry about legs anymore. A worm burrowing through the sky – such imagery invoked within him a feeling of nostalgia, and he found that he missed the Nebula Shaman he had once known (as loathsome (and inferior) as they were).

With that, The Witnessed Day turned his attention back to the group, and his mind acknowledged the announcement of Lucky. He was too tired for a proper introduction (and, after his nostalgic recollection, too unimpressed with the current lot before him), so his gesture was a lazy greeting used by the lower-tiered Nebula Shaman he had only seen a few times in this current consciousness – a simple nod of acknowledgement in the direction of the others. His arms sat limp at his sides, and he only let out one thought-utterance to commune his thoughts.

[color=fff200]“The Witnessed Day.”[/color]

Such was the extent of his daydream that he half-retreated back into it, only partitioning a crumb of his mind to listen for the others’ introductions as his eyes tried to take in every aspect of the now-calm living vessel. The truth was that he had done nothing but follow a curious creature, and had not assisted in calming the Helium Frightful in any way, and he felt he had nothing worthwhile to contribute to the conversation for the time being – a mentality ingrained in him by the Nebula Shaman who had “raised” him.