[It's hard to tell from the angle he's at. But he won't have to wait for long. The scuffle continues, and something is thrown, hitting the latticing of the window with a clang that feels as loud as a gunshot in the tiny space.
The figure shoots up immediately - a child, a boy of no more than six or seven, thin and pale, barely stifling a scream as he scrambles back in his bed, pressing against the wall with both hands quickly shoved against his mouth, eyes screwing shut.
His hair is, indeed, the same brilliant white as Solomon's.]
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The figure shoots up immediately - a child, a boy of no more than six or seven, thin and pale, barely stifling a scream as he scrambles back in his bed, pressing against the wall with both hands quickly shoved against his mouth, eyes screwing shut.
His hair is, indeed, the same brilliant white as Solomon's.]