[Alcuin is making his way through the streets with what are unmistakably garment bags- three of them, layered over his arm. He doesn't count on the kedan child that bumps into him, sending him falling over, one of the bags landing in a puddle.
He scrambles to rescue it before the dress inside can get wet- he has no desire to set off Favrielle's temper, not when she has been under such strain.]
no subject
He scrambles to rescue it before the dress inside can get wet- he has no desire to set off Favrielle's temper, not when she has been under such strain.]
Ah, Elua, how troublesome...