So, when you search “Bunny Ears” on a stock photo website, there are two possibilities that come up: little girls being cute or adult women being sexy. At least the picture I ended up using could kinda-sorta be seen as Amara wearing bunny ears.
Copyright J.B. Norman
“Hi, I’m a bunny!” Sally Lyte says as she dashes by.
Nolan and Matilda blink in confusion.
“I am also a bunny,” Falcata declares, following after Sally.
Nolan and Matilda blink in confusion.
The sight of the towering Amazon warrior with bright pink rabbit ears on her head is a bemusing sight, but neither Nolan not Matilda have the guts to tell her. As far as they’re concerned, Falcata is entitled to wear whatever she wants on her head.
“I found one!” Sally calls, almost falling into one of the potted plants as she reaches into it. She emerges and triumphantly holds up the brightly-painted egg.
Falcata holds out the basket and Sally sets it inside.
“Why eggs?” Matilda mutters. “And where does the Spring Rabbit get them? Rabbits don’t even lay eggs!”
“It’s symbolism,” Nolan offers. “It represents… um, metaphors?”
“And why hide them? Why risk nobody being able to find them and have rotten eggs stink up the place?” Matilda continues.
“Well,” Nolan offers. “At least Sally is having so much fun looking for eggs that she isn’t biting anyone?”
As Sally dashes by, going the other way, she takes her brother’s words as an invitation and chomps down onto his arm.
“Ow! What the heck, Sally?”
“You’re just lucky my teeth aren’t big like a real bunny’s,” Sally notes.
Her eyes go wide at the prospect.
“Oh, man! That would be so cool! I’d be able to bite so many people!”
Momentarily forgetting her egg hunt, she goes dashing off the other other way.
“Hey, Amara! Can you magic me so I have bunny teeth? I promise I won’t bite you. More than four times, and — You’re a bunny, too!”
She points up the ears on Amara’s own head.
“Yes, well, one should get into the spirit of the festival. And, look, Miss Sally,” Amara says. “Here’s another egg. It was in Nolan’s boot.”
“Yay!” Sally says, accepting the egg.
Falcata promptly appears at Sally’s side holding out the basket.
“Wow,” Nolan muses. “Good thing she found that one before I tried putting on my boots.”
“I quite like the Spring Festival,” Tancred muses from the table where he’s painting eggs with painstaking detail, sticking his tongue of the corner of his mouth. “It takes a steady hand and a keen eye to paint eggs well.”
He sets down his brush and picks up the egg.
“Look at this one!” he tells his guildmates. “It has a little face!”
“One time,” Pela says. “My dad wanted to make sure our Spring goose was fresh. Except it was a little too fresh. In fact, it was still alive. Have you ever tried to wrangle a goose? Especially when it’s as big as you are? Those things are nightmares!”
She shudders at the memory.
“We had a ham that year instead. And we still send that goose a Spring Festival card every year.”
“Look!” Tancred calls eagerly, holding up his egg again. “I used the cup to make him a little hat!”
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