"Ink"- Seladon, Brea
"Brea!" Seladon calls, irritation plain in her young voice. "Where are you now?"
She can already hear the lecture- how could she lose her toddling sister in the massive library again? It's absurd- she's hardly even old enough to read, but she's enthralled by the colors and pictures and the smell of the old paper.
Seladon really doesn't have time to keep looking for her like this.
She finds no Brea- only a desk scattered with parchment and an open bottle of ink. Brea has gotten into the Librarian's things again- childish drawings, handprints, and splatters have covered what were once neatly organized notes, and she knows they'll be hearing about that later too.
Struck by a sudden possibility, she draws aside the curtain behind the desk, and finds a little ball of gossamer hair and chubby limbs. There's ink everywhere- smeared across her face, dyeing her tiny hands black, even on the ends of her hair where she'd leaned too far over it. There's a flash of anger- they'll both be in trouble for sure, even though Seladon didn't do anything. She never does- she tries to follow each rule to the letter- but everything seems to fall back on her anyways just because she's the oldest, the heir, the responsible one.
It isn't fair.
But then Brea smiles brightly at her- not only in pride at her "work" but looking so sincerely happy to see her- and the anger melts away. Seladon gently takes her hand, feeling the slimy dark ink smear onto her own, and pulls her to her unsteady feet. She sighs.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."