May's gaze is transfixed on the little trinkets at the front of the stall, her expression rapt with wonder. Her blue eyes sparkle. Her mouth hangs open just enough for her to gasp quietly.
The stall is a simple one, selling various toys and small goods to children like her. It's not too different from the other stalls in the marketplace, except that it's targeted at children her age.
Or, parents with children her age. The same thing, really. No matter the world I'm in, merchants have this in common when it comes to children.
Not that it really matters. Buying some things for May isn't going to bother me at all.
May is currently staring at a little toy sword. It's cheap. A stick of wood, with a hilt made from a piece of scrap leather wrapped around the grip. It's barely better than what a kid might make - and I'm not even entirely sure it's not just a cast off training sword. Perhaps even one a child made themselves, in fact.
