Sam was working on a book for Maea, something with big letters so she would be able to read it for their first lesson. He'd just gotten to the lower case 'd' of the alphabet when his pen hit the bottom of his ink pot. Dry. Sam blinked at the pot, for a moment unsure of where he'd gotten the ink from in the first place, or where he would go to replenish it.
Oh, there was that alchemy shop next door, wasn't there? Perhaps he could trade something for some ink, or get some on credit...? A promise of a notebook, or something like that? From what Sam remembered of the shop keeper, he was always covered in smudges of charcoal. He probably liked to draw.
Well, he had to get the ink and it wouldn't be any less socially scary to ask a stranger for it any other time, so he stood up and set his pen to the side, went to the door and walked two steps. To his luck, it appeared the man was in (he hadn't been this morning when Sam had walked by, which he'd thought rather unprofessional) so he knocked twice then opened the door just slightly.
"Hello? Are you open?"
Samuel
So now I'm free of this
Get these shackles off my wrists
And show me something, show me anybody please
And here we go, "Hello, floor. Have you met my knees?"
Get these shackles off my wrists
And show me something, show me anybody please
And here we go, "Hello, floor. Have you met my knees?"
