[ It's dizzying, when their feet meet with the ground a good distance away from the crowd—though they are windswept and soaked through to the bone, Sion is somehow yet vivacious, thoroughly alive and grateful to feel as much as he does. There is the damp of the water and the lingering chill of the wind; the gentle warmth of sunlight and the Lady's hand, held secure and safe in his own during their descent. Once upon a time, he would not have been able to distinguish between these things, for the curse he carried had left him numb to them all, but in the here and now...
He swings the link of their hands in a light back and forth, to and fro, as his fingers curl about her own in a gentle squeeze. ]
We made it, you and I. [ ...though perhaps he's spoken much too soon! Where the hearts of people might always be won, there remains the matter of robots equipped with water guns, and there is the fast approaching whirr! of the miniature automatons Sion had battled once before during a great snowball fight...! But this is likely an adventure to be touched upon later, perhaps when recanting other fantastic tales, and Sion is left to take decisive action: the swing of their hands turns into a playful tug as the King beckons for her to take flight with him once more. ]
Now we've only to cut a path to the gardens. Let us take our refuge there, my Lady!
[ Smiling still, his eyes are flashing and alight, and no sooner than he's graced with the Lady's assent, he'll dart forward with her, weaving past all obstacles and racing to a future which is not so ever-distant as it seems. ]
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He swings the link of their hands in a light back and forth, to and fro, as his fingers curl about her own in a gentle squeeze. ]
We made it, you and I. [ ...though perhaps he's spoken much too soon! Where the hearts of people might always be won, there remains the matter of robots equipped with water guns, and there is the fast approaching whirr! of the miniature automatons Sion had battled once before during a great snowball fight...! But this is likely an adventure to be touched upon later, perhaps when recanting other fantastic tales, and Sion is left to take decisive action: the swing of their hands turns into a playful tug as the King beckons for her to take flight with him once more. ]
Now we've only to cut a path to the gardens. Let us take our refuge there, my Lady!
[ Smiling still, his eyes are flashing and alight, and no sooner than he's graced with the Lady's assent, he'll dart forward with her, weaving past all obstacles and racing to a future which is not so ever-distant as it seems. ]