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[twitchyswordhand]

Who: Owain and Lucina.
Where: Libra Ward, right outside of their place, moving on from there.
When: The 17th of May.
Summary: After doing the obligatory settling in, getting their bearings straight, wondering where certain people are schtick, the two cousins settle down to discuss very important things like the fact their family tree is weird and alternate dimensions are weird and everything's weird and everything hurts.
Warnings: Awkward.

"So..." Owain said, drawing out the sound as he did so and wishing that there was some distraction to...well, distract.

But there was none. They were outside. The sun was shining as best as it could from behind a veil of clouds. (And, if circumstances were different he'd come up with a poetic descriptor for them, like how they were cursed or whatever: circumstances were not.) The others were other places. There was no Risen, and while he was happy at not having to fight them...for once...it would be nice to have something to delay this conversation.

There was none. And so he (sort of) pressed ahead. "About Morgan."

Comments

[heritors]

Lucina hummed back in response, eyes still flitting around the district rather than staying in one spot. There was just so much to see - and none of it seemed to stay the same for longer than a couple of seconds, which meant that everything kept changing. How did people not stop and stare at all of this?

But. She had to focus. Even if it was just a casual conversation. It was only proper to pay attention.

"... Brady?" Another pause, then a smile. "I do, too. Although I admit that I wish everyone was here."

[twitchyswordhand]

And 'lo, for they continued onward down their chosen path, gossiping 'pon allies of old whilst gazing upon various bits of machinery and gadgetry for which they had little name! They had many an adventure as they stomped upon arrows and ate cake, and were menaced by the vile fiend known as a roomba, an incident for which there are no words. Nay, no words but much shame.

Twas a long and epic journey, one fit for the bards to sing about in the future. NPCs would aspire to their heights. Decades hence, small children would turn to their mothers and say, "Mother, might I have a roomba so I can reenact the adventures of the scions of Naga?"

But that was hence, and not now. Now they just wandered.