#unslake

The line to drop off the birthday boy's presents is unsurprisingly long—a procession of well-dressed attendees (and poorly-dressed ones, too) that quickly meanders into disarray, clumping together in spots and yet, too far apart in others. Arvis, to his misfortune, is near the end of the line, just barely restraining himself from glowering at the entire affair. He likes to think of himself as a patient man, a man capable of waiting, but his tolerance for mismanagement is nonexistent as it should be—and this line, if it can be called monumental in any regard, is a monumental achievement of mismanagement.

As he watches a few servants rush past him toward the congested clumps of attendees bearing gifts, Arvis forces a tight-lipped smile and glances toward the woman standing in line ahead of him. A fellow commiserator, perhaps? If nothing else, at least a conversation will help pass the time—and perhaps, ease his bitterness before he has to eventually greet the birthday boy himself.

"We may be waiting for a while." Arvis says plainly, the tone of his voice unexpectedly neutral despite his displeasure. With his free hand, he gestures toward the wrapped gifts—some small, some enormous—arranged haphazardly on the long table up front. "If you do not mind indulging me, should we try to guess what those presents might be, to pass the time?"

What goes unspoken—And eventually, compare what you and I have brought, too?

When Karla’s wandering eyes attracts the person behind her into striking up a conversation, she’s privately delighted, even if her brother bristles gently beside her. She turns to fully face the stranger, strand of hair that’d fallen free of her braid brushed behind her ear, other hand holding her wrapped gift. She and her brother hadn’t quite known what to get one that already had everything, especially on their limited budget. She’d brought a book — something that was obvious even when wrapped. (One could never have too many books, though, right?) The idea of passing the time by sharing their imagination is absolutely thrilling... even if the man’s serious face does not match his whimsical idea.

“Yes, let’s!” she agrees, quite a bit too passionately — especially for her. Her eyes have lit up, even if the rest of her face is still a bit neutral. She spins back towards the table, long black braid swaying behind her as she does, sizing up the fanciful, gorgeous pile of wrapped assortments. “None of the boxes look thin enough to be garments... Would that be considered rude, in this culture, if not from family members?” She has no idea of this culture at all, but that’d been most of what her gifts had been, on her own birthdays, if not special foods. “How old is this boy? I don’t know if he’s outgrown figurines, or toy weapons.” Some boxes seemed small or long enough for those sorts of things. “I don’t think any of the boxes contain food, because I’ve already seen them put out cake and the like. So what does that leave?” What does that leave, indeed...? What would she have gotten her brothers for their birthdays? She thinks of the twins, but... with Karel right next to her... there is no way she’s going to make mention of them. Or, really, any of his past birthdays, either. She should leave their history entirely behind, especially tonight.