(no subject)
[OOM: This is happily ever after.]
In the great machine somewhere behind the stage set, a chain moves. A counterweight descends. Cogs and gears begin to turn.
Oh. Look at that. The story's started up again, hasn't it? After such a long time, too!
The boy sitting by the fire looks rather the worse for wear. His torn blue shirt has been inexpertly stitched back together. His hair is flecked with sawdust, his arms are bruised, and there's a dab of aquamarine paint on his left thumb.
It's possible that Fakir hasn't noticed how unkempt he looks. Maybe someone should tell him.
In the great machine somewhere behind the stage set, a chain moves. A counterweight descends. Cogs and gears begin to turn.
Oh. Look at that. The story's started up again, hasn't it? After such a long time, too!
The boy sitting by the fire looks rather the worse for wear. His torn blue shirt has been inexpertly stitched back together. His hair is flecked with sawdust, his arms are bruised, and there's a dab of aquamarine paint on his left thumb.
It's possible that Fakir hasn't noticed how unkempt he looks. Maybe someone should tell him.