He's beat. His feet are sore and his arms are tired, and while this isn't the most worn out Sora's been, while it isn't the hardest he's ever been pushed- he hasn't ever really been the type to need an excuse in order to take a break. Sure it's one thing if there's a fight looming, or if there's something important on the line. But the last few days are all starting to blend into one another. Because there's no point staying in town just to hike out to the river first thing in the morning, Sora's gotten extra netting and made a hammock for himself up in the trees- a temporary solution that's only really going to work if the weather doesn't turn. His clothes hadn't changed when he got here but necessity has stripped him down to his undershirt and the pants that he keeps rolled up around his knees.

It means that he doesn't look like he belongs, but he doesn't look strange enough that he draws the eye either. He's learned which vendors have taken a shine to him and who's most likely to give him an extra bread roll or a little cheese. He's found the narrow lanes and alcoves that are out of the way enough that no body gets too mad about him being underfoot.

Between the angle of the building and a nearby tree, if he gets up ontop of an old barrel it's the perfect spot to lean back and cool off- to sneak a little midday sleep. Sora might not think of himself as a person while a whole lot of innate gifts- but being able to doze off just about anywhere sure is one of them. And like the same fairy tale princesses they've met in other worlds before, Sora doesn't stir when someone closes the distance carefully. When someone says his name.

His head rolls to one side just a little- his mouth opens.
And he lets out a noisy snore.