[Finn’s eyes go from the egg to the man holding it. He looks so exotic and Finn is, like any boy his age, entranced by beautiful and monstrous things. He comes in just a little closer, and fights the urge to fiddle with his sealskin, which is currently the puka necklace hanging just open at his collarbone. It looks like it should fall off at any moment but it’s clinging to him with a strange tether of magic.
The closer he gets, the sweeter and more briny the scent of him gets, too. It’s like he was designed to be irresistible in the moonlight.
He reaches carefully, not afraid. His fingertips are gentle as he brushes the tip of the egg, and he chews a bit on his lower lip.]
Like a pearl?
[Finn loves pearls.]
Can eggs hold pearls?
[The question is so genuine, so absolutely innocent; he sounds a little like he’s been asea.]
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The closer he gets, the sweeter and more briny the scent of him gets, too. It’s like he was designed to be irresistible in the moonlight.
He reaches carefully, not afraid. His fingertips are gentle as he brushes the tip of the egg, and he chews a bit on his lower lip.]
Like a pearl?
[Finn loves pearls.]
Can eggs hold pearls?
[The question is so genuine, so absolutely innocent; he sounds a little like he’s been asea.]