[ The last thing Lancer remembers before looking up into a certain Lien Kha's strange, clear-blue eyes, is...
...predictably, very little.
Fire, maybe— a sharp pain in his chest, blood, losing prana. Something about unreasonable requests. Magis, Masters. Despite the lack of clarity, he has a feeling that he's done his part; that somewhere along the way of there and here, he's played himself out. How's that for vague endings?
Also predictably, though, he doesn't dwell on it any more than he needs to, choosing instead to take it and bound forward with it anyway, as he's done for so many things in his life and not-life. For now, his relative freedom suits him fine.
And for now, he's also completely fine with creeping up on his tentative benefactor (bad habit) and leaning over her shoulder to see what she's making. ]
Well, you could stand to eat more. [ Good morning to you, too, Lancer. ] No meat, huh.
no subject
...predictably, very little.
Fire, maybe— a sharp pain in his chest, blood, losing prana. Something about unreasonable requests. Magis, Masters. Despite the lack of clarity, he has a feeling that he's done his part; that somewhere along the way of there and here, he's played himself out. How's that for vague endings?
Also predictably, though, he doesn't dwell on it any more than he needs to, choosing instead to take it and bound forward with it anyway, as he's done for so many things in his life and not-life. For now, his relative freedom suits him fine.
And for now, he's also completely fine with creeping up on his tentative benefactor (bad habit) and leaning over her shoulder to see what she's making. ]
Well, you could stand to eat more. [ Good morning to you, too, Lancer. ] No meat, huh.