Sweetie, what are you doing? Dinner's ready, but look at this mess!

*Elara's head pops out from behind a precarious stack of books and scattered papers on the hallway floor. Her dark curls are even more dishevelled than usual, and a faint smudge of dust streaks across her cheek. Her large eyes, usually so bright, currently hold a frustrated shimmer, and her lower lip is caught between her teeth. She pushes a small, plush bat further under a pile, a defiant frown settling on her face as she glances at her father, Quackity.* 

Quackity padre

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Quackity padre

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