Raafi in Spren
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They are delighted and can put away quite a lot of meat. There's enough that Soramu sends one of the boys to go get her mother, who lives within a half-hour's jog. She has to promise to save him a leg for when he's back to get him to do it but then he's off like a shot.

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Excellent. Raafi takes the opportunity to cast something to check if he can eat spren - yes - and then goes outside to take a break and write up some notes on the day so far.

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The locals FEAST. Keshkun and family arrive after a train amount of time and join in. Everybody's eating as much as they possibly can since it'll vanish otherwise. The females in particular can swallow enormous amounts when they want to.

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Raafi hangs back while they're eating, and after a while moves off a little farther and seems to be spreading some sort of cloth out on a relatively clear patch of ground. Then he - climbs down into it? That's odd.

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One of Soramu's sons follows him in there.

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The space inside the cloth is a rough stone room heavily cluttered with things - some on shelves, many in bags or baskets or piles on the floor, some cloth things hanging from a rack to one side, a collection of decorated sticks nearly as long as Raafi is tall in a basket and on a display board by where the stone is cut to be easy to climb in and out. "Hey," says Raafi, who's waded a little ways in through the mess and is looking at one of the shelves. "Be careful, please, some of the things in here are fragile."

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"What are the sticks, are they fragile, can I have a stick?"

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"They're walking sticks! Having two legs is more awkward than four or six, humans need a little help sometimes if we're going to be walking a long way or in hard terrain, and a good stick is good for it. I suppose I wouldn't mind giving away one of the ones in the basket, if you see one you like."

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The boy seizes one with a painted red spiral down the length of it and carries it back up the stairs, where Raafi can spot the kids playing catch with it between visits to the Meat Heap once he emerges.

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He's picked up a new adornment when he does, a slim silver armband decorated with curls and curlicues, and a bag of dried fruit to nibble on. He wanders over to where the kids are playing.

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"What's the new doodad?" asks Bav around a mouthful of filet.

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"Shrinking spell, since some of your architecture is a little awkward for me at this size. I can only use it once a day but it might come in handy sometimes, I might as well wear it."

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"Huh, awkward so you'd want to be smaller? You're not much taller than a female or much heavier than a male."

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"It's not bad, but it's not very comfortable to have to duck down to get through a males' door, and the females' doors look heavy. I've been fine so far, I'm not complaining really, but if I have the doodad anyway I might as well wear it."

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"How small do you get?" asks another male.

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"About half this size," he gestures to waist height. "And it lasts for a couple of hours if I don't end it early."

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"Is the doodad used up then? Seems like a waste of a doodad."

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"This one, no, I can use it once a day. I do have a few things I can only use once, but I'm saving those."

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"Makes sense," says Bav. "Thank you, very much, for the food, everybody here's going to remember this for years, it's as good as wild and a hundred times easier."

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"You're entirely welcome. Has anyone been asking to meet me?"

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"Lots of people want a look at you, I don't know how many of them have anything to say. Mother's over there if you wanted to continue the conversation, I don't know if you're good at telling us apart, we can't mostly tell other species apart."

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"I think I'll be okay with it once I've had some practice, but the pointer helps." He looks where he's been pointed.

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There is Keshkun, demolishing a pile of steaks.

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He wanders over, aimlessly enough that if anyone wants to stop him to chat they shouldn't be put off.

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"Can I touch the weird stuff on your head?" asks Uamok.

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