50
Firian
When Firian walked back into his room, Bard was digging through the drawers of the dresser. The distinct smell of cinnamon wafted up from them.
“Hey, Fir,” he said. “Have you seen my Tanyu figure?” He held up two fingers to show how big it was. “I can’t find it.”
Firian smirked. “Is it with your Indisfate game?”
“No.”
“I haven’t seen it. Do you want me to look?”
“Yeah, check your stuff,” he said, arm-deep in clothes.
Firian dropped to the floor and lowered himself to see under the bottom bunk. Dust and hair and crumbs of food layered the ground, but no wooden figure. Bard was funny about his stuff from home. So attached. Firian pushed himself up, got to his feet, and waved his blanket around once. “Not here,” he announced.
“Oh, how was this morning?”
“What?” He snapped
