(no subject)

It's just evening on Eiattu, the last rays of sunset are filtering in through the window and turning the floor to pale fire, lighting the tips of the trees and roofs of the palace that Rial, sprawled on a windowseat, is carefully immortalizing in pencil. Plourr is at a nearby desk, working hard, bent over datapads and stacks of flimsi.

Rial cocks his head on one side, squints out the window, and turns to glance at Plourr.

"Working?"