Work Text:
As they took a rest from singing, Otivia took notice of the elegant, teal-colored feather Lorsan was using to write.
“It’s breathtaking! Where did you get from?” Otivia asked, mesmerized.
“This one? Stole it from a friend,” the wilder declared, a self-satisfied smile across his face. “...A dear friend from home.”
While twirling the feather in his hand, his expression softened.
“You want one? I got plenty,” Lorsan offered.
More than one? Otivia was intrigued.
She politely shook her head, lifting her own.
“We’re insufferably inseparable! Bryon and I,” Lorsan blurted.
“Is that so?” Otivia prompted, smirking while jotting down.