i walk away from the soundless room~

[focusedvoid]

 (art by juvehiir)

 

The Shining City knows the Prin well. Significantly better than the Hallowed Heir, who keeps to the Palace nearly as much as Hallownest’s King. It’s not half as much of an event when they’re seen striding through the streets, escorted by none. They’re the one who escorts others, at times; Marissa in particular, after she gained a little too much attention in turn by their initial visit, or other such shopkeepers who found a surge in popularity after finding a royal customer. 

 

Thankfully, the worst of the dramatics and kowtowing tapered off as time went by. These days, Prin Ghost is given the occasional bow and a far more common wave, but barely any second glances.

 

Just as they wished.

And entertaining to everyone involved. 

 

Tucked within their cloak-wings, a good half of their brood clings, unknown to all but the most observant of passerby. Fuzz tickles with their silent laughter.

 

They wander with half a plan, furry heads popping out at their signals to observe and hide again. There's only a little rain to shake off afterwards. (A little? It's still plenty. Prin Ghost is used to such phantom considerations.)

An excellent game.

Comments

[oxydatum]

Being observant comes as part of an Archivist's job. More so, if one happens to assist the Teacher directly; meticulousness is a must.

Anyway, as he himself privately likes to attest, it is not nosiness but inquisitiveness, and of course it is much more interesting to see and pretend you didn't than simply not to look.

Across the street, Quirrel exchanges a list for an invoice with a preoccupied-looking metalsmith without so much as granting her eye contact. There are more interesting things to look at, and he's quite certain he caught something very small disappear behind the Prin's wings.

He has always rather taken a shine to that one. They've a way about them, or maybe it's better to say he has his suspicions. He has time - so today would be an excellent day to confirm.

"Thank you," says Quirrel absently, "excuse me." He's so distracted the metalsmith has to grab his hand and place the rolled-up invoice into it before he can move out of range. Surprised, he dips his head in a polite nod at her, and immediately sets off.

Quirrel subtly weaves through pedestrians and crosses a walkway, and with some excitement he quickens his pace to draw level with the much taller Vessel, and falls wordlessly into step as though he's just been assigned their personal aide.