RE: The Primarch Keeps Breaking Things
04-28-2017, 11:07 PM
You feign confusion. A server arrives with three plates of something you don't recognize, but that scent--oh, wow. You almost forget about doe-Elana's question, the stuff smells so good.
"No no, they're terms of a card game I'm obsessed with." That's right, talk nerdy to her. Doe-Elana doesn't seem the type. Barth starts cutting into his fried whatever; you and doe-Elana follow.
"Render's Eggs are literally the rarest cards in the world." You take a bite, and your tastebuds ascend to Heaven."Oh wow, what's in this sausage? I mean, sorry, only 9 or 10 Render's Eggs were ever produced. The Seeds—the sausage's stuffed? Is this spiced cheese? I love stuffed anything, alright, but this is something else. Where was I? Right, Seeds. That's what we hardcore players call the rules. I—OK, OK, we gotta stop here, I cannot believe how good this breakfast is."
You dab grease from your mouth with a paper napkin. Doe-Elana laughs, bells chiming along, and reaches over to wipe excess from your chin. You've heard that Cervo don't quite understand personal bubbles. Barth's the exception what proves the rule.
"There we go. Didn't I say? Uh-may-zing." Satisfied with your reaction, she turns to her primary point of interest. "What about you? You've been a little quiet, Bartholomew."
The conversation's in his ball park now. You mouth 'we've got priorities' between bites of paradise, and for better or worse, trust him to care more for sister-Elana's baton than flirting.
* * *
For now, you're the bodyguard. The relationship between the future Primarchs doesn't concern you.
If pressed for an opinion, you'd say 'Chris' should've saved himself a dozen pointless side quests and told Miss Elana what happened with the wand. She's got a fearsome temper, but she'll forgive him eventually. You suspect these shenanigans with the doe will lead you further from a resolution to their teenage drama—but what does Chris care? You're 'old and uncool'.
The doe bats her lashes, pulling you from your thoughts. Ah, yes. She wants your opinion on breakfast.
"Far be it from me to interrupt your conversation. The food's delightful—we owe you for the recommendation."
"Oh, gosh. You don't owe me anything."
She gives you a playful nudge. Cervo cultural norms press you to return it, and you do, but barely. You lost most attachment to Cervo customs after the incident that stripped you of your title and banished you to the Fourth Ring, where you now spend your days escorting an adolescent warp mage across timespace.
- - - -
Who were you and what did you do to deserve this, if you deserve it at all?
>_