Hamon

"Are those reading glasses?" Leander asks, apparently looking at him for a while. Hamon almost jumps out of his skin, and hastily takes them away, stuffs them in the drawer of the counter.
"N-no they're, just something I use from.. time to time," he fumbles, not looking at the young imperial.
"Soo- reading glasses. To read with."
Hamon doesn't answer, and instead busies himself with the scroll of ingredients he was holding, resisting to look at them closer, or god forbid, squinting.
Leander looks amused.

He stands there for a moment longer, before Hamon lets out an exaggerated sigh. "And can I help you?"
Leander just continues smiling.
"You really don't want people to know your eyesight is getting worse?" he asks instead. Hamon narrows his eyes at him. A fleeting thought of "this rude young man" enters his mind, and it disturbs him more than anything.
"It's none of theirs, nor yours business, the state of my eyesight," he says instead. Who am I to call him young, he's towering over me with many feet.
Height has nothing to do with age, old stump, his mind answers, and he annoyedly ignores it.

"Well I won't pry. I think they make you look more authentic, you know," Leander gestures aimlessly. "More like I expect a candlestick maker to look."
Hamon puts the scroll down on the counter, and brushes away unseen dust from the wooden top.
"Great. Now was there something you wanted beside ogling my reading habits?"
Leander snorts but adds nothing more. He just wanted something bright, perhaps a blue lantern for his home.
That he can do, Hamon thinks, and is blessedly left alone with his work once more.


It's not that he doesn't .. doesn't know he's getting older. It just bothers him when its pointed out. Rather, when he looks himself in the mirror he sees fresh golden skin of youth, but his eyes tell the truth about his age.
He's been alive for quite some time now, and if he let the put upon skin drop, he's sure he'd look like an old council member.


So candlestickmaker or no, he'll keep the reading glasses for himself, and whatever comments that young welp (god help me) has about his age, he'll let it pass. Like a mature, adult being that he is.

Sadly, now the last of his family line in the clan, both parents sent away, and no siblings left.

A little guy who likes bright lights, and used to love hiding in the winter fur of his mother. As he grew, he let go of his fear of the unknown, and embraced a profession in which his small lithe body is an advantage. Mindrion and Rigel takes good care of their children, and Hamon is always paying attention to the work of his parents. He shares his fathers excitement in the festival times, and helps putting up lights and decorations.

First a candlestick maker, then an archer, then back to making candles.
He's had a rough year, and venturing into war and hunting seemed to do him good in the beginning. But war leaves images, most of which he wished he'd never seen.
Retired from archery, he's back in the clan, opening a booth of his own, where he sells lanterns, candles and other knick knacks.