Spindle
Eggy exists a little apart from things, observing more than participating. His silences are not empty. They are full of thoughts he hasn’t found words for yet.
When the world grows loud, Eggy retreats into stillness. He rocks gently, hums under his breath, grounding himself in repetition and rhythm.
Understanding Eggy takes time. Not questions, not urgency. Just presence. Eventually, meaning surfaces in its own way.
