memory’s so treacherous
One minute there, the next gone; Finn gazes up at Artemide as she swoops conveniently out of reach, the Spyglass rising to his feet and tilting his head up at her. "How rude," he remarks, sounding utterly unbothered about it. "I suppose that is to say that I will be keeping this book and this information to myself, then? Or at the very least, I won't be sharing it with the Eye." Grabbing the towel from the back of the chair, he finishes drying off his curls and leans back to perch against the desk.
"It isn't as though there is anything I could do, even were I so inclined. My compass has been confiscated. My glasses are still up in Cian's office. And I am talking to an owl," he points out, rubbing a hand across the scruff on his chin.
"It isn't as though there is anything I could do, even were I so inclined. My compass has been confiscated. My glasses are still up in Cian's office. And I am talking to an owl," he points out, rubbing a hand across the scruff on his chin.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
