“And look at you, out here, deliberately not ignoring the one noble that’s actually present.”
“Not that much of a noble anymore, remember?” Celedil takes a step towards the other mer as a window opens in the mead hall, releasing the soft and slow melody of a harp-played ballad, “Which I am kind of thankful for, given that I wouldn’t have been able to do this, back then.”
He bows, low and formal, offering a hand to Wenselyr whose big and bright amber eyes merely blink at it. Celedil swallows the thick sense of nerves in his throat, and smiles,
look, I can’t be blamed, ok, when syster blesses me with writing, I gotta draw it. I kinda wanna change some stuff but it’s too late now, here u go