Work Text:
Neverfell stuck her tongue out in concentration, kicking her little legs from behind her. She cocked her head to the side, staring and squinting at the drawing (which was only partially smudged), wondering what she did wrong. Something didn't seem quite right. She scribbled some more.
It was detailed, at least for a child of around seven years. Some cogs, an idea of an overzealous gadget, nothing that made sense the more you thought about it. Asking questions would only warrant a puzzled face from the child, who would furrow her pale brows and chew her pencil, and return to the drawing with a shrug. She would figure it out at some point.