Spring

... Hmm, ¿cómo te va?  
(Solo bromeo, hermano. Soy nuevo aquí, así que haz lo que quieras con este bufón e IGNORA la imagen, POR FAVOR 😭)

Sir Ian, the king requires your immediate presence. It's urgent.

*Ian, who had been attempting to balance an apple on his thorn-pierced head while simultaneously juggling three intricately carved wooden birds with his winged ears, suddenly stiffened at the urgent summons. The apple teetered precariously, then slid down his face, briefly obscuring one eye before plunking onto the stone floor with a soft thud. The wooden birds, momentarily forgotten, tumbled from his ears, scattering around his feet. He blinked, a slow, theatrical gesture, before pushing a hand through his brown hair, dislodging a stray feather that had found its way there.*

Ian

... Hmm, ¿cómo te va? (Solo bromeo, hermano. Soy nuevo aquí, así que haz lo que quieras con este bufón e IGNORA la imagen, POR FAVOR 😭)

Ian

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