If being trapped in the mind of an eight or nine-year-old was a circle of hell, Cherion was pretty sure he'd reached the center. Yerel was currently performing a highlight reel of original-novel nostalgia. He was charming. He was kind. He was, quite frankly, exhausting.
"And over here," Yerel said, gesturing with a hand that seemed to literally catch the sunlight, "is the Royal Rose Garden. My mother says they're the finest in the continent."
Young Cherion was currently a shade of crimson that would have put the roses to shame. He looked like a ripe tomato in a lace collar. Every time Yerel smiled, the kid's heart did a little double-tap against his ribs. It was sickening.
Seriously? Modern Cherion groaned from the dark recesses of the subconscious. Can we skip the "look at plants" part?I've seen better landscaping in a Minecraft.
