Karal stumbled out of the cabin. His head was pounding, his stomach was rolling, and his mouth felt as it had been stuffed full of cotton. It was not a good morning
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Karal curled up a little more, arms wrapped around his legs, and pressed his forehead against his knees. "Will glitter make me feel better?" he asked miserably.
"It might." She pulled the glitter she'd gotten from Rory a week ago, and blew some in his direction before sitting down. "So I hear there were some really good movies at the festival yesterday..."
He looked up hopefully, wincing as the movement made his head pound more, as the glitter settled over him, then slumped when it made no difference. "Yes, they were interesting." It was the best he could manage.
"The tavern, there were brightly coloured drinks. I think we should not have had the purple one," he said and groaned quietly as his stomach protested the reminder. "Your brother doesn't want it anymore?"
Karal made a noise of complete and total agreement, and then flinched when it hurt his head. "Is this supposed to happen?" he asked plaintively, peeking out through his hands .
"Molly, good morning." He smiled up at her, but it was pretty pathetic, and he had to close his eyes briefly. "There were these coloured drinks and they don't like me."
"I think I should not have drunk something which was purple," he said ruefully, rubbing his temple. "The tavern here, it serves much stronger drinks than the ones at home. Are you well this morning?"
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"Ow."
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