Broken Antler Fen and every day is getting straighter,

arcturus hadn’t found jackalope’s pausing odd — but, in retrospect, this was the perspective of a silent boy who had grown into an even quieter man. speech had never been his wheelhouse, and even now when he spoke his words could occasionally slip past him.

he was not sure of which to react to first: the suggestion to race, or the noise issued from jackalope’s about. surely arcturus’ impression of how preposterous he viewed the suggestion was written clearly on his face: him, race?

what was he, a child?

he didn’t snort, but his expression pretty much filled in the blanks clearly. watching jackalope decline the offer and slink off, arcturus turned to tambourine.

no. arcturus declined, his tone brooking no apology or quarter. a waste of energy better spent elsewhere. he rose to leave, wanting no part in childish games — and every bit the wet blanket that tambourine was the life of the party.