"It seems foolish right? Almost like a joke." Korbin looked to the ground. "That the supposedly almighty King of the North used to cry from a paper cut."
Daphne motioned to comfort him, but he never gave her that opportunity, putting back on his hardy padded armor.
He opened the box, fanning it out such that each petal of silver rested squarely in one of his palms. The box was carefully crafted, made and polished by the most skillful craftsmen. So put together with his slender fingers, it truly appeared to be a work of art.
Within the box were around twenty little capsules, twenty little drops of sunshine.
Each and every one was perfectly shaped, without a hint of flaws or imperfections. In many ways, they were almost too perfect, seeming almost unreal to a certain degree.