[ Elena wasn't the only spectator, of course. It was a grand old thing, the euphoria of the crowd and nestmates budding in the deeping dark of their minds like motes of light. Distraction enough, and though Clint spent plenty of time of his own watching the races, it was a perfect opportunity for some spying. Harmless gossip and whispers that might become more, picked pockets spilling credits and curious baubles.
By the time of the feast, Clint's long since crept from the shadows, flipping some gleaming golden coin between gloved fingers. Sam's -- well, he's somewhere else really, and Clint's relieved himself of guard duty, though he stays at the edges of the crowd. His feigned muteness doesn't lend itself well to verbal interactions of course. But he's not without his ways.
Only, there's a hunger, ebbing at the edges of his mind, clawing at the back of his throat, ashen upon his tongue. He swallows, reflexively, and follows the path of empathy to a vaguely familiar mind. Tendrils of thought, cautious, like a knock at the door of her mind: ]
hope this is fine ??
By the time of the feast, Clint's long since crept from the shadows, flipping some gleaming golden coin between gloved fingers. Sam's -- well, he's somewhere else really, and Clint's relieved himself of guard duty, though he stays at the edges of the crowd. His feigned muteness doesn't lend itself well to verbal interactions of course. But he's not without his ways.
Only, there's a hunger, ebbing at the edges of his mind, clawing at the back of his throat, ashen upon his tongue. He swallows, reflexively, and follows the path of empathy to a vaguely familiar mind. Tendrils of thought, cautious, like a knock at the door of her mind: ]
( You alright? )