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[At least he knows the knock on the door means his mysterious visitor can't be Vasilka the cat again.
Rather than a person, he finds a stocking stuffed full of pure sugar and a card outside his door. Dustin, they're going to work on your penmanship at some opportunity, but the uniquely imperfect nature of the handcrafted gift gets a smile. The closest thing to a child he's had in his life who would present him with doodles like this is Proteus--and those aren't bad memories, not by any means.
The flower crown is carefully deposited on a table. But what in God's name is he going to do with all these sweets? Things had gotten a little complicated in Quor'toth with danger and flaring tempers all around, but hopefully that won't stop Dustin from helping him eat this over the coming weeks...]
and some yet live, treading the thorny road - Post a comment
which leads, through toil and hate, to fame’s serene abode