[se] the reign of doves

K O A

and they will shake their heads
and wag their bony fingers

"To clutch in indignation, of course," he says deadpan, his copper eyes sparkling with unshed mirth. Making sure his back is to the merchant, Koa presses the back of his hand to his forehead, a low gasp of playful indignation escaping from his throat. "Safrin's garters," the boy murmurs softly to Lena, "But what is the world coming to, when any hooligan from the street can galivant around calling themselves an artiste?"

'Alright then.' The gruff voice of the shopkeeper startles Koa; he lowers both hands with childish abruptness, a comical expression of surprise coming over his face. Luckily she cannot see him, and so his show is for Lena alone.

'This is a fine piece,' the shopkeeper continues. 'Three karats. Could be set as a necklace, or ring.' She continues, explaining different metals and settings, taking out examples for Lena to see.

Koa, meanwhile, is regrouping, recovered from his surprise. As the merchant goes on the boy sets about quietly miming her conversation, complete with exaggerated affectation and hand gestures set carefully to avoid being seen. It's not particularly polite, maybe, but it's a way to amuse himself, and none of the mockery is mean-spirited. He stops the moment the merchant seems at risk of seeing him, and so attempts to entertain the caretaker as she continues her shopping trip.

in all the wrong directions—
and by daybreak we'll be gone