Whether the bed near the window belonged to Rutile or not, they had lain themselves down there on their stomach, ankles twined in the air like a child's. Their yimo lay face-up before them along with a notebook, pen, and a couple of books that looked far too delicate to be moved - and of course, moved them Rutile had.

One might be forgiven for thinking they were a small statue or a large doll; Rutile's ability to lie perfectly still, unbreathing, unblinking, was unparalleled, and the only indication that they were animated was the slow movement of their head as they turned to face Raven.

"Are you a new Dreamfolk, then?" Rutile asked, expression perfectly neutral. Any interest they had - and they were always interested - was buried beneath serene stone.