Ed had grabbed his notebook, antiquated pen at the ready. He loved the ones you had to dip, which was…well, inconvenient, but very Eddish. He had darker skin as well, more umber than ZeetZi’s—and of course, no feathers. Ed was of Silverlight, born and raised, though of Vaxilian heritage. His lodestar wasn’t on his hip; he carried it in his bag with his books and notebooks, but it was one of the arcanist ones, bigger and bulkier, with twice the number of buttons as anyone else’s.
