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Feo followed after Lucius, his steps slow and deliberate as he processed the other man’s words. There was something unspoken in Lucius’s tone, something he wasn’t saying outright, and Feo wasn’t sure if he should press or leave it alone. He could recognize that kind of hesitation, the way someone deflected to avoid lingering too long on their own story. Feo had done it more times than he could count. - Still, it was strange to think that Lucius had his own struggles growing up. Feo had built this idea of him as someone who always had it together—confident, composed, unshaken. Hearing about a side that had known loneliness, that maybe still carried it, wasn’t something Feo had expected. - “Yeah,” Feo said, his voice quieter now, the bite of his usual sarcasm softened. “I guess freedom is... different for everyone. And it changes, like you said.” He let out a breath, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Still figuring out what it looks like for me. I’ve been running so long, I don’t think I ever stopped to think about what I actually want. I guess that’s what happens when everything’s been chosen for you.” - He glanced sideways at Lucius, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Eating dirt, though? That’s your idea of freedom?” Feo let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I guess kids are the dumbest things alive, but still—at least you had the chance to be dumb. That’s something.” His smile faded a little, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “Not all of us got that.” - The quiet between them stretched for a moment, comfortable but heavy, like the weight of their pasts had settled in the air around them. Feo finally broke it, his voice steady but carrying a hint of something deeper. “It’s weird, you know? Thinking about how much the past shapes you. Like, no matter how far you run or how much you try to start over, it’s still there, hanging over you. I guess that’s why I want to burn my old stuff, get new clothes, all of it. I need to let go of what came before—leave it behind for good.” - He tilted his head toward Lucius as they walked, his smirk returning, albeit softer this time. “But, you’re right. Maybe freedom now is just figuring it out as we go. Traveling, making mistakes, getting into a little trouble here and there. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?” He punctuated the word 'trouble' a bit, raising his eyebrows at Lucius in a sly joke, his smirk widening slightly. - As they stepped onto the street, Feo took in the sights around them, scanning for anything that might lead them to the collector—or to a decent meal. “Alright,” he said, shifting the topic back to the task at hand. “Let’s focus on what’s ahead. We can ask around, see if anyone knows where to find this guy. If he’s as big a deal as you think, someone’s gotta know something.” - Feo adjusted his coat, his gaze sweeping the street as he fell into step beside Lucius. “And hey,” he added after a beat, his voice lighter, “if this whole collector thing doesn’t pan out, we’ll just wing it. Seems like that’s how most of this has been going anyway.” He shot Lucius a sideways grin. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll stumble on something useful. Or at least something interesting.” - He didn’t say it out loud, but there was something oddly comforting about the idea of figuring it out together. For once, he wasn’t running alone. Maybe that was the first step toward finding his own version of freedom. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius gave Feo a brighter grin in return, shaking his head lightly, which tossed his hair a little bit. "Choosing for yourself can be daunting at first... or y'know, silly," his tone lifted in a light laugh. "Listen, I'm not saying we were smart kids. But we ... definitely did some dumb stuff. It's inevitable as a child. The world is new, you have to explore everything and... as a kid... that also involves exploring with your mouth. Luckily for the rest of us, we don't need to do that." Lucius glanced toward Feo for a moment. "The past is always there, it's a reminder for us to learn and grow from it. But that's not a bad idea. A bonfire of all the trash that Loki so graciously dumped on you. Besides, we can do better--we can totally do better." His eyes glittered with delight. "Trouble is part of it. Now, we won't be getting into that kind of trouble but a little bit is inevitable," Lucius gave him another lopsided grin, the usual light in his eyes returned as he focused on the streets. There was a slightly damp feel to the air, just crisp enough to tell that there had been rain the night before. A few puddles lingered on the sidewalk and in the road, though Lucius doubted they'd stay for too long once the sun really began to shine down on the ground below. "Big deal? We'll see," Lucius confirmed, glancing around. While Feo was looking for things to lead them to the collector, Lucius was looking for people. People liked talking. They also liked being helpful. Getting directions? Easy. "Oh winging it is how we always go for things, it just means your plan is flexible enough to handle changes," Lucius teased, nudging his arm. One man was stopped ahead at the crosswalk, waiting for a chance to cross the street. Lucius picked his feet up, jogging lightly to catch up to the man. "Excuse me, sir?" The man glanced back and raised an eyebrow, looking toward Lucius. "You... aren't from around here are you?" "No sir," Lucius confirmed with a brief nod. "We're from out of town. But we have a school project and apparently someone here has a collection of old artifacts? We were wondering if he could help us out with a few questions." The man nodded slowly, his eyes flicked down a different street before he glanced back at Lucius and then up toward Feo. "Well, he usually doesn't like visitors. He's kind of a recluse." "That's understandable," Lucius said briefly. But the man's gaze had betrayed him, he knew at the very least... the vague sort of direction that the man lived in. "Down that way," the man relented, gesturing down the same street that he had looked at. "Just be careful." |
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Feo nearly tripped over his own feet at Lucius’s offhand comment about kids "exploring with their mouths." His eyes widened, and a rush of heat climbed up his neck, blooming across his face. He blinked, momentarily stunned, and then let out a nervous chuckle, trying to compose himself. “Okay, wow,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as if that would somehow cool the flush creeping up his ears. “And here I thought my joke was bad.” - Lucius had a way of catching him off guard like that—his humor and sass coming out of nowhere, sharp but not unkind. It was... attractive, really, the way he carried himself with such ease, throwing out remarks like that without missing a beat. Feo found himself studying the way Lucius’s grin widened, the light in his sapphire eyes bright and full of life. - For a moment, Feo was distracted enough that he almost forgot they were walking down the street. He cleared his throat, forcing his attention back to the task at hand, though his mind was still half caught on the way Lucius had laughed so casually. - “Y’know,” Feo said after a beat, trying to regain some control over the conversation, “if we’re being honest, I think I’d rather skip the ‘mouth exploring’ phase altogether. Sounds like a fast track to regrettable decisions—and probably a few hospital visits.” He glanced sideways at Lucius, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “I mean, unless that was the kind of trouble you were talking about getting into? Because if so, I’m starting to worry about how you survived childhood.” - Lucius’s reply was as effortless as ever, brushing off Feo’s teasing with another grin and a quick remark about bonfires and doing better. Feo couldn’t help but admire how easily he carried the conversation, his energy light and almost contagious. It was grounding in a way Feo hadn’t expected, giving him something to focus on beyond the weight of their mission—or his own tangled thoughts. - As Lucius jogged ahead to catch up with the man at the crosswalk, Feo hung back a few steps, watching the interaction from a distance. His lips twitched into a faint smile as Lucius laid on his charm, the practiced ease in his voice as he spoke to the stranger almost mesmerizing. Lucius had this uncanny ability to make people want to talk to him, to trust him—even when he was asking for directions to something as unusual as a reclusive artifact collector. - When the man finally relented, pointing them down the street and warning them to be careful, Feo took a few quick strides to catch up with Lucius. “You’ve got a way with people,” he said, his tone light but genuine. “I don’t know if it’s the hair, the eyes, or just the fact that you can spin a story like that on the spot, but it works.” - Feo glanced down the street the man had indicated, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the vague warning. “Be careful, huh? That’s not ominous at all.” He looked back at Lucius, his smirk returning. “Guess that means we’re heading in the right direction.” - As they started down the street, Feo let his gaze wander, his mind circling back to Lucius’s earlier comment about freedom and trouble. “You really think trouble’s inevitable?” he asked, his tone half curious, half teasing. “Because I’m starting to think you might have a little too much faith in my ability to wing it. But hey, if trouble’s part of the deal, I guess we might as well make it interesting.” - He hesitated for a moment, then added, “And, uh, for the record? I’m all in on the bonfire idea. Burning Loki’s junk sounds like the kind of trouble I can get behind. Maybe we make a night of it. Grab some marshmallows, tell some embarrassing stories—assuming you’ve got any that top ‘eating dirt,’ of course.” - The flush on his face had faded, but there was still a flicker of warmth in his voice, a hint of something lighter as he fell into step beside Lucius. For the first time in a long time, Feo felt like the weight of the past didn’t have to be quite so heavy. Maybe, just maybe, he could start to let it go. |
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If Lucius was being honest, he was also questioning how he had survived childhood. The amount of bones he had broken, fractured or bruised was astounding. He hadn't ever ridden a bike--because hello that was a bad idea. But flying through the trees? Bad idea. An obstacle course that they had made out of old railway ties, metal buckets, old wood? Bad idea. Everything his mother had done? Bad idea. By a lot. Somehow, they had survived. Lucius was not entirely sure how now that he gave it a good amount of thought. Sheer luck maybe? Granted, Lucius wasn't entirely paying attention to the subtle innuendo he had hinted to. It was more an off-hand comment about all the kids he had seen take a fist full of dirt, grass, gravel, bugs, dust--the list went on--and shoved into their mouth. "Oh trust me," Lucius gave Feo a lopsided grin, though it was a touch wane, "the hospital is inevitable when it's me involved. It's just a question of when and how. But trouble is inevitable when you're doing your own thing. I mean, we've got the cranky waste of godly essence who's grumpy that you're being your own person, the all-seeing worry-wart that thinks it's now his problem and the entire world to explore. Trouble... it's always there. It's just a matter of letting it be far more fun." He grinned brightly. "Oh, trust me, I have plenty of stories. But we'll wait until after we pester this poor man for advice." "Pester who for what advice?" The voice was tired, exhausted and dry. His wrinkled scowl was etched into his eyes--all the way into his very being. He looked exhausted. "We're looking for a collector--" "Let me guess, you're looking for a particular item. You're wondering if it's for sale, it's not for sale--" "No, actually," Lucius winced lightly but cut him off anyways. "We're looking for him. He... might have advice for us." The man's wrinkled eyebrow raised slightly. "This way. We can talk in the lounge. Do you prefer tea or coffee?" The man was wiry and slightly thin, with salt and pepper grey hair mixed in dark hair. His eyes were a soft brown, skin faded from many, many days in the sun. But his hands had quite a few scars on them as he opened the door to a quaint little cottage. "Most people come for the collection that I have," he explained loosely, gesturing for the two to take a seat in the front room. A couch, two chairs and a coffee table all sat above a deep blue rug. "I mean, we did start out wanting to look at the collection," Lucius admitted, "But... well, we need some advice too." "... what sort of advice?" |
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Feo stood stiffly just inside the doorway as the collector led them in, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He took in the space with a critical eye, not bothering to hide his discomfort. The cottage had that lived-in feel, but there was something about it that rubbed him the wrong way—too neat, too curated, like everything was just a little too perfect. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it made him feel like an intruder. - He didn’t sit when invited. Instead, he remained standing by the door, eyes darting briefly to the couch and then back to the collector, who seemed to expect them to settle in. Feo wasn’t in the mood for small talk or polite gestures, especially not with someone who had that tired, almost knowing look in his eyes. - "Coffee, tea, whatever," Feo muttered when the collector asked about their preferences, his voice sharp as he waved a hand dismissively. His gaze flicked around the room, avoiding the man’s eyes. He didn’t need a drink, didn’t need to settle in. He was here for one thing, and one thing only: answers. - Lucius had already spoken up, and Feo could feel his impatience growing. He wasn’t good at pretending to be polite, not with people who weren’t Lucius. - When the collector returned, his movements slow and deliberate, Feo barely spared him a glance as he accepted the coffee. He took a sip—too bitter, but he didn’t care. His eyes flicked back to the collector, his expression guarded. - "We’re not here for the usual 'show me your collection' crap," Feo spoke up abruptly, voice cold and clipped. "We need advice. Or something close to it. We’re trying to figure out how to fit in with spineless idiots, while also not getting ourselves killed by someone with a god complex." His eyes narrowed. still standing. “So, if you’ve got any wisdom to spare, I suggest you start with that. Talk fast." - He wasn’t here for games. Feo wasn’t in the mood to play nice, and he didn’t have the patience for the cryptic, sage-like words the man might try to throw at them. He needed answers, not riddles. He gave the collector a pointed look, daring him to say something that would make Feo’s already thin patience snap. - The faintest flicker of irritation crossed his features. He wasn’t about to make small talk, especially not with someone who seemed to know too much without offering anything useful. |
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Lucius took a seat on the couch, taking the tea cup in one hand and the dish in his other hand. His sapphire eyes scanned the older man with a touch of a faint smile and mostly awe. He had a lot of powerful stuff, that much Lucius could feel. He opened his mouth to respond and Feo jumped in. Lucius sighed and shook his head slowly. The man, in return, furrowed his eyebrows before raising one. He set his own mug down on the coffee table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Forgive me, but what?" Lucius let out a small breath. "His father isn't exactly a kind man. But he is powerful. We need advice on how to blend into the mortal world so that we can get away from him," he explained loosely and somewhat reluctantly. There was less of a light air to his tone and much more weight than usual. Especially when talking to a stranger. "We figured since you have a collection of powerful stuff, you'd have advice on blending in." The collector leaned back slightly but his eyes didn't leave Asrifeon. The older man's brown gaze scoured over him for a few moments and then looked toward Lucius. "You are Greek, You are Norse," he gestured to the pair. "You don't give off enough of an air to be anything powerful enough to be dangerous. You, young man," he turned to the Norse demigod, "you do. But you already know that. I can see it in the way you stand. Blending into the mortal world isn't easy. It requires several layers of work." Layers of work. Lucius wasn't going to lie, that was a new phrase and he wasn't sure how to take it. Layers of work--what did that even mean? "You've got a knife on you," the man said briefly, "I can see the hidden fold. It's very cleverly hidden. I say that with experience, I've been trained to look for hidden weapons. I've taken on quite a few thieves and robbers. You, on the other hand, weaponless. You want to blend in? Get a weapon. The thing about being out here, in the mortal world, is the creatures," the man explained as he stood up from the love seat, his tea forgotten. "Mortals won't care. They can't really... comprehend you anymore. It's been too long and they've lost their eye of magic. However, that makes other creatures, beings and the likes far more bold. They will come for you and get whatever they want out of you." Lucius winced slightly. "Really...?" "Really, kid. So, what are your plans for weaponry? I ... may be feeling generous." |
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Feo stood rigidly, still leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a look of faint disdain creeping across his features. His eyes never left the collector as the man spoke, absorbing every word with the sharpness of someone who was used to being on the receiving end of a lecture but had little patience for it. Feo wasn’t interested in easy answers or advice he hadn’t asked for. He didn’t like the way this conversation was unfolding, the way the collector was sizing him up, speaking as though he could see right through him, right through everything Feo wanted to keep hidden. - When the man mentioned the knife, Feo’s eyes briefly flicked to the hidden pocket where the weapon was concealed, but he made no move to acknowledge it. It was hidden for a reason, and if the collector noticed, it wasn’t something he needed to comment on. What a joke. Feo had learned a long time ago to always be prepared, no matter how uncomfortable or out of place it made him feel. He wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t going to be caught off guard like some amateur, no matter how much this stranger seemed to think he could read him. - The mention of creatures, beings coming for them in the mortal world—now that had Feo’s full attention. His lips tightened slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling down as the weight of the man’s words sank in. Creatures. Things that could see beyond the veil, things that wouldn’t hesitate to come after them for what they were. Feo’s thoughts spun, trying to process this new reality. The mortal world was one thing, but the idea of creatures—dangerous ones—lurking around, waiting to strike when they least expected it? Sounded about right. Stupid cow. - Feo wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable. He didn’t like it. He hated it, actually. But the longer he stood there, the more that seed of doubt crept in. What if the collector was right? What if they did need something more than just their wits to survive out here? Feo felt the knot in his stomach tighten. The thought of relying on anyone, even someone like this, made his skin crawl. But the reality of their situation was starting to press in on him from all sides. - His fingers twitched again, a sign of the tension rising in him, but he forced it down, determined not to give this man the satisfaction of seeing him rattled. When the collector spoke of weaponry, of needing to be prepared, Feo let out a breath through his nose—quiet, but enough to release some of the pressure that had been building. There was something about the way the man spoke, so sure of himself, that irked Feo to no end. He wasn’t here for advice, and he definitely wasn’t here to be treated like some naïve fool who needed guidance on how to survive. He wasn’t that person. He’d never be that person. - Feo’s gaze flickered over to Lucius, who seemed to be listening intently, his posture relaxed but his expression thoughtful. That made sense—Lucius wasn’t always the type to brush things off, especially when it came to survival. Feo didn’t want to admit it, but sometimes Lucius’s willingness to take advice made him feel like he was missing something. Not that he would ever ask for it, of course. - With another heavy exhale, Feo pushed himself off the doorframe, standing up straighter and stalking over to the couch, leaning over the back with his elbows on the frame but still unwilling to sit down, unwilling to let his guard down. He wasn't about to let some stranger dictate his next move. The man’s warning about creatures, about blending in—Feo didn't need to be told how to survive. He'd figured it out long ago, by necessity. - "The comments are appreciated." - There it was, that sharp edge in his voice, the part of him that always felt more comfortable with walls up and defenses locked tight. Feo had learned long ago that the world didn’t hand you anything on a silver platter. It didn’t matter who you were or what you were running from—no one gave you a free pass. He was no exception. - The mention of weapons, of danger—it was all a reminder of the harsh reality of their situation. But Feo didn’t need to be coddled. He didn’t need reassurance. What he needed was control. Over Loki, and especially anyone stupid like Atlas, who thought they could threaten or hurt his Dove and get away with it. He regretted not killing Atlas, at this point. But the memory of Lucius's sickened expression returned, and the urge went away. He never wanted to do anything that made him look sick like that. He'd take the long route, as long as Lucius was comfortable. - His gaze shifted toward the door, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him, but he still didn’t move toward it. Not yet. Feo wasn’t sure what he expected from the collector. Maybe he expected a fight. Maybe he expected the man to back off, to admit he didn’t have what they needed. But either way, he wasn’t about to let anyone—especially not this stranger—get in his way. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius gave Feo a small look, it was quick but sharper than his usual expressions. This man had an entire collection of mythical artifacts. This was not the man... that Lucius wanted to piss off. Quite the opposite, he was hoping to get in good graces with this man in hopes of learning something more. Which he had not been subtle about. The winged demigod was captivated by the words of the man, gleaning whatever information he could from him. Creatures that could see beyond the mortal eye? Interesting. It made sense. The man paused at the door frame, looking back toward the Nordic demigod. "I understand. I assume you already know this. Most of this information and comments aren't for you. But your friend here," he waved one hand toward Lucius. "Come, bring your mugs." Lucius stood up slowly, a touch sheepish. He hadn't meant to be so naive, but it wasn't like he had much experience with this sort of thing. This was far more the type of situation that Feo would have experience with. Creatures, fighting, survival and the likes. Lucius? Not so much. Still, he followed after the man into the small kitchen and out into the backyard. A larger barn sat in the back, painted red. But to the side was a much smaller grey shed. The shed hardly seemed big enough for garden tools, maybe a wheelbarrow if it was smaller. Lucius glanced toward the barn, tilting his head. "Is that...?" The man's chocolate gaze turned toward the red wood barn as well. "Is that where I keep everything? No. It's a lure. Helps weed out thieves because they think it's in the barn. No, no, it's actually in here," he turned to the shed and fiddled with his key ring. After a few tries, the man popped the padlock and opened the shed door, holding the door open. Behind a pair of coats, a broom and rake, a ladder led downward. "It's an underground collection," the man said with slight amusement. "But most of it is nothing special. Just little bits and pieces that I've collected over time," he stepped to the ladder and began to scale down each rung. Lucius eyed him for a moment or two before looking back toward Feo. While his immediate instinct was to trust him, giddily following along... he had the images and feelings still fresh in his mind about the last time he had done something like that. "Do you trust him?" Lucius whispered quietly, watching for Feo's reaction. "I... I don't get any off feelings but... I didn't with Atlas either." |
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When Lucius shot Feo a look, Feo’s irritation flared for just a moment, but his eyes flickered briefly to the ground before glancing up to meet Lucius’s gaze. The guilt was there—tugging at him. He softened for a split second before quickly averting his eyes, his expression becoming more guarded again. His head was filled with a swirl of thoughts, each one adding more tension to his already frayed nerves. - The collector’s behavior set off warning bells in the back of his mind, but Feo wasn’t about to argue in front of him. Not now. The man was unpredictable, and while Lucius was clearly enraptured by the man’s knowledge, Feo couldn’t shake the feeling that something was... off. Still, he kept it to himself, brooding in silence as they moved forward. Maybe something was always off with Feo. Maybe he was just paranoid. - As they approached the ladder, Feo's brow furrowed in suspicion. His gaze remained on the man as he climbed down, and the more he thought about it, the more that gnawing discomfort grew. “Fucking sketchy,” Feo muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. His lips curled into a faint sneer. “I absolutely do not trust him.” - Feo’s words lingered for a moment in the cool air between them, and he stood there, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if trying to will himself to stay where he was, stay vigilant. But then he saw it—the way Lucius’s eyes shone with excitement. He could see how eager the other was, how much he wanted to learn from this man, even if Feo wasn’t entirely sure that was a good idea. There was a soft edge to Lucius’s expression, and Feo’s resolve cracked, just enough to make him step forward. - With a frustrated sigh, Feo moved to Lucius, stepping right up to him and, in one swift motion, spun him around to face away from him. His arm slipped around Lucius’s waist, pulling him close enough that the warmth of his body was felt against the demigod’s. He wasn't going to let Lucius go down first, with the creepy old guy right below him, but if something happened and they had to get out quickly, Feo would have felt much better if he had Lucius in his arms, rather than scrambling off somewhere or accidentally falling. - “You’re absurd,” Feo muttered quietly, his voice almost tender despite his irritation. “But I love you, and I’ll do this weird, sketchy thing for you if it makes you happy.” His words were a mix of annoyance and affection, the underlying sincerity clear despite the gruff delivery. His three remaining limbs easily began to carry him down the ladder with careful precision, holding Lucius tightly against him as they descended. - The move wasn’t entirely unselfish. Feo hated that he was being drawn into this strange little quest. But there was something about seeing Lucius this happy—this eager to learn—that made it impossible for Feo to walk away. So, he kept his mouth shut, pushed his discomfort to the back of his mind, and followed the man down, his body a steady anchor for Lucius as they descended into whatever strange world the collector had hidden below. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius bobbed his head lightly. It was sketchy and felt a little bit on the weird side even for him. But at the same time, he couldn't blame the man. What measures would he take if he had a collection of mythical items that had various powers and capabilities? That was his main doubt. That was the question that Lucius kept swinging back to, to make sense of everything. If he had what this man did... what would he do? That was the issue. He probably would've done something similar. Which was why he was willing to go with it. Sure, it was sketchy but that was better than obvious. Right? The sigh from Feo had Lucius tipping his head lightly. "We--" he didn't get much more out before he was all but hefted off his feet. He was going to relent, say something that they didn't have to go down if it wasn't a good idea. But the words murmured softly in his ear was reassuring. At least a little bit. Lucius did his best to be as helpful as he could. But as they scaled the ladder he could feel the eyes of the collector on them and he knew, he just knew, there were questions that were going to be coming up. A ... a sprained ankle from Lucius. Yeah, that'd work. He'd sprained his ankle the day before. Lucius gave Feo a weary smile and did his best to look around the "... oh wow." The area was well lit, spacious and open. There were glass cases, shelves, pinned boards up along the vast walls. Some items were more rusty and old than others, some had been restored to former glory. "... that's a rather odd way to come down a ladder," the collector commented--just as Lucius had figured he would. His hands were set on his back, glancing between the two and the vast collection. "I sprained my ankle yesterday," Lucius explained wearily. "I can walk a bit on it... but a ladder is probably a bit much for it." The man tipped his head lightly. White tile floors lined the space, reflecting the bright light that shone down. Some of the items glittered with gems, catching the eye of any who looked toward them. The collector looked rather proud, tired, but proud. "There's a lot of history here, boys," his voice was almost lost in the vast space. "Feel free to look around for a bit. If something calls out to you, call me over, I'll let you know what it is." Lucius looked back at him and then Feo, still struggling to try and feel a little wary and not ... excited. "This is massive," the awe escaped his voice, "how did you manage?" "A lot of it was just helping demigods and my own searching. I used to do archeological management. Some of the things went to actual museums and I kept some as souvenirs," the collector let out a warm sigh. "But yes, yes, weaponry. Some of them have extra help laced in the metal." |
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Winter Month: 1 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
