IC INBOX - PHANRIFT

[founderinglight]

one for sorrow, two for mirth
three for marriage, four for birth
five for the truth and six for lying
seven for sickness, eight for dying
nine for silver, ten for gold
eleven for a secret that shall never be told
twelve for the moon, thirteen for the sky
fourteen for the accursed unable to die
and fifteen for my heart's last desire
a new day's dawn, reborn in fire



Izunia Lucis Caelum
Keystone Station Room #11
Network @elevencrows

Comments

[founderinglight]

A bold claim even if we didn't both know it to be bullshit. Figured out laundry stains yet?

[motherfucking_ghost]

That's what a washing machine is for? Duh?

[burninglight]

I'm not incompetent, honestly.

[founderinglight]

With the amount I've had to fuss over you in the past I feel like the elder sometimes.

[motherfucking_ghost]

And there's no need for fussing now. At least not from you. He's got like twenty people to fuss over him now.

[burninglight]

He's right, and I even know how to be a living, breathing human now.

[EYEROLL.]

I'm two thousand something, not a child.

[founderinglight]

[Whoa hey what are you aggro for.]

It's just a bit of ribbing, settle down.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Well. A living, breathing human being who needs some winter attire when the cold snap comes rolling in.

[burninglight]

I'll be fine, I'll put a damn coat on.

[founderinglight]

Please let it be a new coat instead of the one you ran around Niflheim in for who knows how many years.

[motherfucking_ghost]

It's a good coat. Cozy.

[burninglight]

He's right. It's comfortable, I don't think one should bring archaic fashion into it when it serves its purpose.

[founderinglight]

I'm more concerned with how it must surely be wearing out by now.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Magic, motherfucker.

[burninglight]

[Just. Gestures to Church.]

[What answer did you EXPECT?]

[founderinglight]

That's unfair. My clothes wear out normally.

[I mean except the armor but does that really count.]

[motherfucking_ghost]

Then you need to magic 'em up, motherfucker.

[burninglight]

Clearly, you're not trying hard enough.

[this is how they make friends.]

[founderinglight]

Dickheads, the both of you.

[Yep, this is sure bonding.

Verity gets bored trying to climb onto her dad's sketchbook and opts for standing at the edge of the table to meow at her uncles. Someone pet her.]

[motherfucking_ghost]

[Church will not say no to the pettings!!! He is but a simple creature.] Damn right we are.

[burninglight]

A perfect pair of imbeciles, yes.

[Good kitty. Both uncles will pet you, of course.]

[founderinglight]

[There's certainly more than enough of her to pet. Bonp.

Izunia takes a last sip of his drink and sends it to the Armiger.]

Now, now, I said dickheads, not stupid. Most of the time at least one of you has some sense.

[motherfucking_ghost]

That'd be him. [Point the non-petting hand at Ardyn.] He's Mr. Sensible.

[burninglight]

What? That's ridiculous, I-


...Fucking hell, I'm sensible by comparison.

[founderinglight]

Brother, dear, I hate to tell you this, but you're one of the most sensible of the lot. Unless your emotions are getting the better of you, anyway.