Calan
"Souffle," Calan mumbles under his breath, not because he needs help remembering it, obviously, but because passwords work better if you say them twice in a whisper. He nods at once, both solemn and wildly encouraging, his eyebrows lifting as if Carlo has not only made a good point but discovered a law of feasts previously hidden from less clever people. "I think I saw a sign that said you have to eat dessert before dinner, here," he whispers back.
Before his brother can vanish entirely into the forest of ankles and hems and badly guarded shoes, Calan leans closer, lowering his voice. "I'll see if I can find anything good while you’re gone," he promises.
Once Carlo has started toward the dessert table, Calan turns his attention to the underside of their temporary kingdom. From here, the feast is all shoes and shadows, dangling cloth and the occasional hand reaching down for something dropped or forgotten. He stays low, eyes moving carefully from one possible opportunity to the next, not touching anything yet, because the first rule of finding things is knowing what’s worth finding before anyone notices you’ve started looking.
Calan is hiding under one of the largest feast tables
Before his brother can vanish entirely into the forest of ankles and hems and badly guarded shoes, Calan leans closer, lowering his voice. "I'll see if I can find anything good while you’re gone," he promises.
Once Carlo has started toward the dessert table, Calan turns his attention to the underside of their temporary kingdom. From here, the feast is all shoes and shadows, dangling cloth and the occasional hand reaching down for something dropped or forgotten. He stays low, eyes moving carefully from one possible opportunity to the next, not touching anything yet, because the first rule of finding things is knowing what’s worth finding before anyone notices you’ve started looking.
Calan is hiding under one of the largest feast tables
you are a victim of the rules you live by
Code stolen from Queen Sky
