Borrowed words, worn to familiarity in Ellis' mouth. (His mother, fingertips ink stained, tipping a book towards him, voice soft.) His left hand leaves the reins, fingers opening and closing, then shaking the cold and stiffness out.
"Have you ever seen sketches of the lost thaigs? I'd heard of one explorer who published some written account of his expedition, along with what he'd drawn."
Not as good as what Wardens had in their collections. But it's enough, he thinks, to offer up for this purpose.
"The sketches might be of interest to you, even if they aren't properly art."
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Borrowed words, worn to familiarity in Ellis' mouth. (His mother, fingertips ink stained, tipping a book towards him, voice soft.) His left hand leaves the reins, fingers opening and closing, then shaking the cold and stiffness out.
"Have you ever seen sketches of the lost thaigs? I'd heard of one explorer who published some written account of his expedition, along with what he'd drawn."
Not as good as what Wardens had in their collections. But it's enough, he thinks, to offer up for this purpose.
"The sketches might be of interest to you, even if they aren't properly art."