When Cy showed up outside the tower to pick up Quen, the older girl seemed draped in several empty bags, all of them slung over various shoulders and elbows. It seemed she was truly taking her shopping trip seriously. But she took a pause at the gates to crane her neck backwards and stare up, up, up, at the building that had been her home for—how long was it? eight years, before spending the next five with Cormac. Whenever she stepped inside the actual Mages Tower, it was even worse; every time Cy came back to pick up more books or dive into some studies, nostalgia seemed to dog her steps and nip at her mind. It was like a time machine, slipping right back into memories of late nights munching on candied kupo nuts while burying herself in books, practicing non-stop for her synergist exam.
It had worked out well, of course, but she was determined that others not fall entirely into the same pit of social hermitude and academic obsession. Cy needed a break; Quen needed a break; everyone needed a break. It was time to grasp their precious free time when they could.
So when she saw the blind mage, she called out by way of greeting with a boisterous and cheerful: "Oi! Quen!"