when you're in a hurricane

I think I can manage being collateral damage

Everest blinks once, then again at the mention of a cart, his gaze drifting briefly toward the far edge of the market where, yes, one could presumably find a vendor with precisely that service. "True," he says slowly, as if replotting his entire afternoon in real time. "I didn’t account for transportation needs beyond the satchel. I may have to revise my storage protocols." It isn’t a joke—at least, not entirely—but his mouth twitches like it wants to be one.

Isla’s comment about waiting for a suitable shift earns a contemplative hum, his eyes returning to her. "Do you know if aquatic shifts exist for Ancients?" he asks, genuinely curious. See, should have let me make the otters that swim in lava "Do they... ppear over time, the way they do for Attuned? Or are they more specific?”" There's a rare note of curiosity in his tone, one that sounds far more like genuine intrigue than anxious overplanning.

When the merchant returns with the cuts, Ever accepts them with care, bundling the samples in his hand before offering them out toward Isla with a small nod. "You can choose which is C," he says, tone just a touch dry, "but only if you’re certain. I’ll need to associate it with you now, after all. Permanently." His eyes flick up from the wood to her face, unblinking, faintly amused. "No pressure."

.