“That’s right, don’t bother,” Fassn says from below. “Just for a second, won’t take long. I just want to have a taste.”
At this, groans of protest from the other three.
“Old Ajralan,” Fassn intones.
“Don’t say it,” Shyan says through gritted teeth.
“May you,” Fassn continues, haltingly. He’s waving his arms wildly to reach the brown goop under him. “Have your fill,” he finishes, fingers stretched to the breaking point. Still, he can’t quite reach the sludge.
Logan Bright — Works 