#baronyofthesilverwolf

The sound of muffled coughing heralds an arrival before the knock on her studio door - then again, the knock was perfunctory, as Art walks in right after. "Thistle?" Not sure if she might be around yet this early on a Summer morning!

"Hey!"

She seems to be wrapping a birdcage in batting?

"I had to leave home early or I would have been roped into babysitting 'Wain. Air's too bad for him to go to day camp at the park, but I guess they settled for indoor movie day."

He pulls off a mask that was over his face and grimaces at it before folding carefully to slide into a pocket.

"What are you working on?"

Jingly little coughs from the shelves. Chime!

"Never air shelter."

He flaps a hand at a tickle around his ear, shooing off some small Chimera that slid in the door along with him. Opportunity!

"Little idjits got no grombah."

It looks like a firefly, but hard to make out the color of it's light in the brighly lit studio, sunlight streaming in where the windows allow.

"Grombah?"

"Chutzpah."

He offers a plastic cup over to Thistle!

frappuchino

It's her favorite blended drink! He remembered

She quirks a plumed brow and takes the cup, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Thanks."

Now there is a tickle on Thistle's ear as the little bug explores the wispy hair that plumes around knobbly ears.

"Gah! Hey there."

"Coffee is almost palatable in this format, when it's mostly sugar." He observers, and covers a laugh.

"That's always been the secret." Grin!

The wee bug zips back, silent compared to a Never's chatter - perhaps the wings make a sound, but one too soft to hear. And then, POP! It makes a sound, almost like a firecracker, if very, very quiet!

Then again, Thistle likes coconut in hers, so her taste might be questionable.

Head-tilt.

It's crawling on a wall, luckily Linnea's kitten is banished from the studio after one too many tipped beaker.

"That's a new one."

"Is it? There were quite a few outside. Not as lively as this one, though. Even with the Baroness's warding, the smog seems to have all of the wildlife hunkered down."

"Well, it's worse than Goblin Town outside right now..."

"...and you like Goblin Town!"

"Wonder if I'm missing a pun? Firework flies?"

"I wonder." Art squints over at the bug, but the studio is rather brightly lit.

"Flick the switch, eh?"

Before Art can reach, Citrine has buzzed over and flipped the switch. Off!

ON!

OFF!

ON!

OFF!

A long-suffering eye roll.

"Ack!" Art cups a hand over the switch, to a complaining chime, and switches off.

"You fluff-headed ninnybat. ALright, where's that bug?"

It's dim.. not quite dark, light still filters in, and Citrine, Ochre, and Saffron all cast warm glows of their own.

Pop! A tiny flash of bright blue light! Almost like a miniature fireworks burst!

A few answering (pop, pop!) sounds, like Briar making popcorn in the next room over. Tiny bugs crawl on the closed glass (tempered and reinforced) of the closest window.

"Ain't that a thing."

She cracks the window.

Red! Pink! Yellow! Not the same as the glittering glow of the Nevers, these are little pops of color in sunbursts that spark and fade, then spark again!

A halfdozen or so of the bugs buzz in, popping eagerly around Thistle.

"Oh, absolutely Firework Flies. How cool!"

"Tis the season." Art admires.

Citrine chimes a little sullenly.