#halfdraconicbard

@half-draconic-bard

Flute music was rare around these parts- But it was good music, and the boy found himself sitting down on a nearby crate to just listen, planning to drop the other a couple of coins when he’s done with the slab of bread he was currently shoving into his mouth- And when he did, he offered a little grin.

There was a certain artistry in spell invention, the way lines of research came together into perfect, concentric balance. That being said, of course, there was also a certain ugliness about it-- namely, troubleshooting the kinks by practicing the spell in question. Thus far, Soren’s latest foray into experimental magic had led to three public mage laboratories collapsing as a result of altered wind pressure, and the liquidizing of a fourth one’s walls into mud.

For this purpose, the mage had made a foray into a forest little-traveled and set about casting and altering his spell. It was woefully inaccurate, spinning off at almost random cardinal directions. Frustrated, Soren pressed his lips into a thin line and pushed more power than necessary into his next casting, the wind howling and shrieking for him.

It was a father's duty to watch over his children, and it was a father's duty to comfort them. But there was more to it than that, and it was more than that to Nergal; he loved his children, he would do anything for them. When they had come screaming into such a cold world with such a distrust towards them and their mother he had promised them – silently, with nothing but a whisper on his lips – that he would protect them and shield them.

So when young Nils came to him with tears on his cheeks and laid his head in his father's lap Nergal leaned forward to look at the boy and wipe the tears from his face.

His elbows propped up on the counter, Leonardo stared off to nowhere in particular. He then proceded to grumble incoherently before speaking p again.

"Th’ bard! Ye, kid who nily got ambush’d by ‘m bannits. Seems to really treasure tha’ flu’ of ‘is, but he’s a bardy lard, so tha’s kinna obvyus."

                  Although clearly stated, Severa doubted it. She was well                   aware of her attitude; and is stubbornly snark without even                  trying. But despite that, a smile nearly peaked her face. Nearly.                   The attempt pleased her—Severa liked attention, and it was                   a kind gesture. But her demeanor stated otherwise.