Atnorsa held Anastasius' hand as if he were a childhood friend, loose and comfortable, and with very little apparent notice of his touch. As her bare feet padded across the dirt, going blithely wither he led, she looked around with an air of detached interest - untill the bees gathered around her companion like a buzzing golden cape. She brought her other hand across to pass through them, watching them shift and feeling the brush of gossamer wings and tiny bodies with the sudden intense focus of a poet preparing to bestow an ode upon dustmotes swirling in a sunbeam.<br/><br/>Then the moment of intensity faded, and with a light laugh she swept a little bow, "to the king of honey!"