The hands Cang’s dry-washing are extraordinarily clean. No deep brown dirt sleeps beneath the nails, which are trimmed and softly rounded. The leather of his wristguards gleam where Montague’s assistants polished them. The brocade of his vest has been closely cleaned and even repaired where some of the looped stitches had come out. As Cang daydreams about what he’ll steal from the dragon, he feels somehow ready, like the cleanliness of his appearance makes him a fitting guest at the dragon’s side.
31 i) The gang scrubs up nice under the noonday sun
The gang scrubs up nice under the noonday sun, its power mostly obscured by the city’s rising buildings.
Shyan’s hair is combed and all the dirt’s gone from under her nails. Cang’s bald head is shiny and smooth. Abia’s dreadlocks gleam with fresh beeswax, and Fassn’s beard has actual shape — it no longer looks like he’s wearing a tumbleweed upon his chin.
“I love this stone,” Fassn says, stamping his foot appreciatively.
“We’ll we’ve half a day before the buy,” Shyan says. “I’m awfully hungry.”
“Thinking of turning over another share of our haul for a hot meal?” Cang asks with a sneer.
Just then, the glowing sphere zooms away, coming to a bobbing rest over an apple cart, whose owner is engaged in the other direction.
poem: session starts in several hours
session starts in several hours
prepping til the end
the haze will wipe the details clean
these people aren’t your friends