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Snippet #2629185

located in The Manor, a part of Je T'Adore, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Manor

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury
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Silenceā€¦ eerie silence. The walls dripped with it, the floors creaked by it. Existence seemed to slow to a near standstill- a phenomena that occurred for the benefit of those under its roof. It was almost like a blessing forced to be given, something that the universe had to give them to make up for the hell that they were forced to suffer forever.

One would expect that when the head of the household lapsed into this kind of stagnation, Lonan would become livelier and more open, easier-going and more relaxed around the house. But they would be wrong; at least after a fashion. It was true that these things may occur to a small degree in the somber man, but it wasnā€™t something to be witnessed by the others in the house when this rarity of Sabineā€™s developed. It may have taken him a day or two to realize that Sabineā€™s demeanor had changed, as that was just how much Lonan avoided the man, but once the fact was established, Four seemed to disappear from existence entirely.

For when he assured himself that Kira wasnā€™t in any harm from the hands of their dictator, he lapsed into his own kind of altered state. Lonan would be gone for days, no one having the slightest clue as to where it was he went, or if he had even left and was instead simply hiding too well within the manor. Following the easing of his concerns in regards to Sabine and Kira, Four stole away under the cover of darkness and solitude that first night of confirmation. While the others relished in the freedom they received to roam the house without any worry of the demon, Lonan had elsewhere to be.

When Sabine was consciously aware of himself, Lonan restricted his wanderings to the courtyards of the house at night to get his running and fresh air in, but when the chains were released and the leash around his throat went slack, Four ran with it the first chance he got. It was easy to slip away unnoticed- the other pets were too busy with themselves to really notice anything else and he had the skill tucked away under his belt to begin with.

He would run far and fast, relish the stretching of his muscles and the change of scenery. He would put as much distance between himself, the house, and the town a dayā€™s journey away. It didnā€™t matter the distance between the latter two, didnā€™t matter that the house was in the countryside. Lonan was always suffocating under the heaviness of civilization, of smoke and upgrading technology. He hated it all, hated that he knew things would only grow worse as time progressed. And all he had was time.

Four would escape into the nearby forests of the countryside, would conceal himself to a past familiarity to attempt to find solace and self. The outdoors were his peace of mind, where he felt closest, most connected to his past with some semblance of normalcy, where he could attempt to pretend that nothing had changed, forcefully ignoring, almost painfully ignoring the obvious lack of everything he once knew. The sights and the smellsā€¦ the feeling of a different age in a different place. He would go out hunting, living amidst the leaves and dirt with the rough feeling of a quickly crafted bow conjured from the skills buried within the memory of his hands fitting comfortably within his palms. The long-misplaced familiarity of stretching tendons and muscles when he would pull back on the bowstring, strong shoulders set and eyes intently focused on whatever sort of prey he had honed in on, aiming with decades of past practice.

Four felt little in regards to taking the lives of the creatures in the forest. It was better them that he exerted his anger and frustrations on than the others in the house, than himself for a fleeting moment of time. Well, he felt little except for a melancholy jealousy; they could die, could pass from the earth and move on in their allotted time of existence. They wouldnā€™t discover the debilitating change that came with the turn of ages, wouldnā€™t live with the realization that everyone who ever cared about you, everyone you ever loved, had moved on and passed without you. They would never be forced to face the terrifying reality of being utterly alone, being in a place that you did not belong, being crushed beneath the force of constricting eternity and helplessness.

He was doing them a favor, really. They would not have to suffer the future winters and hardships that came with life. It fulfilled Four in any case, so it honestly didnā€™t matter what the animals may have thought. He did not feel guilt, only relief that was desperately needed to flourish from his cooped up soul.

This was a game of torment and torture, however. Lonan would delay the inevitable, ignore it despite the knowing certainty that it would always happen- that the hunger would inevitably return and break any poorly veiled spell he had tried to weave for himself. That his duty, his curse, beckoned to him like a sirenā€™s song that could never be ignored. It would bring him crashing back down to reality; it would tear him from familiarity, from any possible happiness, back to the damnation he faced daily and suffered eternally. It was reliving every feeling from that very first day, the day he realized that nothing would ever be the same. The fear, the anger, the hopelessness, the dire feeling of all-consuming end- that everything was all over.

It was a sick and twisted game where he would allow himself a possibility of relief only to be denied and harshly reminded by his own hand that it would not be allowed- he was not allowed to be happy, he was not allowed to find relief or solace; he was not allowed to escape into his memories or to lose himself to them. Because the hunger always came back, and with it the chains constricted around him once more, digging into him and dragging him back down into the depths of a living, continuous hell.

It wasnā€™t so much the pain that forced him to return to Sabineā€™s side. No, the pain he could easily handle. He dished it out upon himself daily in every degree of the word anyway. Pain was nothing to Four, or at least when it wasnā€™t at the end of Sabineā€™s rod. The true monster was the madness that ensued, the primal hunger, the desperation and the loss of human self. This was the reason that he did not simply bare to end his existence. Because he was a danger to everyone in England elsewise. Lonan reacted differently to Sabineā€™s blood than all the others. When it dwindled from his system not only did he endure a climbing sense of excruciating pain, but he slipped into a sense of bloodlust and rage, unsatisfied with any pool of blood sticky and dripping through his fingers unless it were Sabineā€™s. While bloodlust was a natural occurrence for the pets later on in their timeframe of lacking the demonā€™s blood, Lonanā€™s was violent, unfiltered, and had a tendency to stir sooner than anyone elseā€™s did.

So Four was always aware of the time that passed between his last feeding and the distance he put between Sabine when the demon lulled. He could not bear the thought of harming anyone else, forcing others to suffer under his anger, to suffer the same way he suffered. That was one of the many reasons he did self-harm; on the rare occasion that the anger stirred to an unbearable degree, he would abate it using his own flesh as a canvas of expression and release.

Lonan had probably been absent from the manor for about three to four days when he felt the draw and duty to return from days spent amidst the quietness of the forest, with the gentle rustle of leaves and the smell of life and earth, the warmth of the sun and the coolness of night paired with the choirs of chirping crickets and the distant hoot of an owl wishing to join the serenade, the comfortable roughness of a thick branch beneath him as he slept. The journey had been a quiet one with Lonan rarely speaking and instead listening to his own thoughts and the sounds of the earth. Was there regret to be leaving once again? Of course, but it was mellow, concealed. It was just another fact of his life, one he had come to terms with long ago.

Four returned to the manor the sixth night, dawn of the seventh day in the week of Sabineā€™s slumber. He snuck past familiar stone fences etched with ivy, roses in bloom, and the local crickets innocently chirping away their final notes of song before the predators began to stir. The sun had not yet peaked over the horizon, but its time was growing near, and Lonan did not want to be caught out in its rays. Eyes consistently focused on each window of the house to ensure that there were no watching eyes, he slipped seamlessly between bushes and trees, low walls and hedges, until he reached one of the back doors.

The house would begin to stir shortly with the earliest of risers, but Lonan had quite the opposite in mind. He need to re-familiarize himself with his room, find that small etched out nook he had made for himself in terms of accepting Sabineā€™s presence once more. But the haunting memories of the house would greet him as well, would loom over his mind and invade his being the moment he entered. He often had a great trouble sleeping and instead did something with himself at all hours of the day- out of the prying eyes of others, of course. That would not be the case today, however.

Four knew Sabine to a certain extent, what with having been stuck with him for a few centuries, so he usually had a good grasp on the demonā€™s timer when it came to these times of peace. Undoubtedly he would return to his usual self very shortly; if not today, then certainly tomorrow. But Lonan hoped to be far from him when that occurred, to find some peace and rest for his aching muscles, to hide beneath the sheets of his bed and never come out again. It would never happen, but he could still hope, foolish as it was.

The old wooden door creaked quietly open as Lonan pressed against it with his side, slipping inside and looking around for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the low level of lighting. A hooded cloak of dark brown adorned his frame, hiding his face and appearance just in case he were to run into someone. He would not allow his place of respite to be disclosed to others, and the dirt and sweat that clung to his form would easily tell of a place he had been. He did not want others asking questions, trying to figure him out. It did not matter if one or two of them had somehow overseen him slipping away at one time or another, he always slipped away if anyone were to pursue, was always careful to cover his tracks. He unlaced his boots quickly so that he would not track mud in the halls, further disclosing that he had been up to something.

For a moment he paused, considering that he might have used the walls of the building instead to reach his room, but the thought was dismissed in the next instance when his body ached in a dull beat. No, he would be too tired to do so. Besides, he was fairly confident in his ability to avoid everyone- he did it every day anyway. Four left his muddy boots by the door; he would clean them later, or inevitably someone else would pick them up and do the job for him. He was not worried about them- the mud could easily be placed for that in the gardens outside.

It was quiet in the halls he wandered through on socked feet, the wood was dark from the lack of any lighting, and the pathways rang with a cold from lack of any heating element, whether that be from a hearth or from the sunlight. Four liked the house when it was like this, it was quiet, familiar. He was left alone and the walls reverberated with his thoughts. He wandered past many pointless rooms, empty of any life or touch, simply there to make the house bigger and nothing more. Those were his rooms; they were just like him. Overlooked, ignored, left by the wayside to collect dust and dirt, never seeing the light of day and sort of just there. There for no reason.

On his way to one of the many sets of stairs in the building, Lonan paused by one of the washrooms. He was quick and efficient in washing the grime from his form, the water cold to his warm skin and sending a chill up his spine. It didnā€™t really matter though, his bed would be warm once he crawled into it. Four removed any traces of having been out in the wilderness for a few days, set the rag back into the basin, and departed once more.

The stairs creaked beneath the weight of his feet; it was strange, that the house seemed to be so much more talkative when all other voices fell silent, when it was just Lonan wandering its expanse. During the day you would never hear the creaks and squeaks, or at least never pay them any mind. It was hard to ignore them, however, when they were the only things making noise. Four ascended onto the second floor, feet falling into a familiar practice of wandering down the halls toward his room. He lived on the second floor of the house in the left-most wing, his room as far from Sabineā€™s as he felt was satisfactory. No others occupied any of the rooms adjacent, immediately across, or down from his own. There was a space of at least two doors in any direction before any of the rooms had an actual purpose.

If his room werenā€™t different from all the others for the simple fact that he lived in it, there was also the matter of its doorknob being completely different from any of the other doors in the house. His was wooden instead of brass or silver. That was one thing he had taken into his own hands, switching out the mechanism with one of wood, just another reminder of his past- he was a woodsman, so it was no surprise that the object was made of wood. It was decoratively carved, done by Lonanā€™s own hand, with leaves and branches. Nothing fancy, but simple and well-done.

As his fingers closed over said object, he mused for a singular moment on how soft and familiar it felt in his hand. The wood was worn from hundreds of uses, sometimes not even to open the door, but instead a light rub of it for luck and remembrance. Four turned the knob, heard the light click from it releasing off of its hatch, and guided the door open. The room itself was dark, and not simply from the fact that it was early morning before the sun had risen. The walls were painted a maroon with light brown effects. It was rather plain, asides from the regal bed that stood slightly askew from the center of the room on the right side, pushed against the far wall, and the large window that rested slightly to the left of the center of the room. Dark curtains hung over the panes, blocking out any light that should dare to disturb the rest of the individual within. There was also a small room off to the left, probably a storage area, but one that Four mainly used for a washbasin and the likes whenever he couldnā€™t be bothered to use the ones downstairs. It may have been a hassle to bring water up that far, but it didnā€™t really matter to him.

The room was sparsely furnished, with little more than the bed, a desk and chair, wardrobe, and chest of drawers. Each piece of furniture was rather time-worn and a bit battered, but the bed itself stood out among the rest. It was a large four-poster of dark mahogany wood. Drapes sat tied tightly to the tops of the posts with dark cording, but it didnā€™t have much in regards to a headboard nor anything in regards to a footboard. It was hard to tell whether it had started off that way or whether Four had made the adjustments. He didnā€™t like being boxed in, and thus had secured for himself that it wouldnā€™t be an issue in regards to his bed.

Lonanā€™s room was also directly above Kiraā€™s, intentionally so. He would be able to slip out of the window and work his way down to her rescue if it were ever required, or even just to visit her at times. He wished that she would have chosen a room that had been around his, but he knew that she had a fear of fires, and thus would never abide on the second floor. So instead he had made the necessary arrangements to bridge the gap between them, to ensure her safety and wellbeing. He never seemed to be too far from her at any one given time, especially since they were confined to the space of the house and its grounds.

Lonanā€™s facial features softened once he was within the safety of his room and the door had been quietly closed. He let out a small sigh of relief, removing the cloak he had donned once more after he had rubbed himself down with water. He simply tossed it off to the side, intending to pick it up in the morning. After he had shed that first bit of clothing, the rest were quick to follow as he slowly made his way over to the dresser pushed against the left wall. He changed into a lighter set of clothing- sleepwear made up of a light grey long-sleeved tunic and a soft pair of brown trousers. He was not one for nightshirts or sleep gowns or the likes.

After having accomplished the feat of worming out of stale clothes and into fresh ones, Lonan finally made it to his bed, tiredly crawling into the sheets and under the covers. Once his body had stilled, he allowed his muscles to relax and his form to rest. It was then, as he lay there staring up at the ceiling, that the darkness converged on his mind. Every concern and burden he had left at the manor when he departed into the woods came rushing back on him. This was where the struggle lay in trying to sleep. Nightmares and sufferings: yet another fact of life he had simply accepted by now and fought through just like all the rest.

Lonan wasnā€™t sure how long he had laid there awake, tossing and turning, squirming about under the pressure from inner torment and physical stress. He wasnā€™t sure how many time he fell asleep only to wake up again, or if he had fallen asleep at all. It was hard to tell, as any nightmares that may have occurred were too easily slurred between the lines of reality and the horrors of actual thoughts. He did recall, however, a moment of waking when he had gotten up and moved around. Or something like that. The details were heavily fuzzy.

Eventually, a general sense of stillness loomed about the room. Silence reigned in the atmosphere- a fact that was certainly not missed by the young man wrapped up in the sheets of his bed. Lonan had some random swath of cloth pulled over his head, covering one eye as the rest of him was curled up in the mess that was now his bed. Four had finally slipped into an unconscious state of dreaming and had finally gotten his weary mind and body to rest. He was completely unaware of the doom that was closing in upon him with gentle, upbeat footfalls.

Said doom had a red-headed serpent on his arm, attempting to try his little blackbirdā€™s door but finding it not locked but wedged shut. It perplexed the demon for only a moment before he leaned against the door, one foot outstretched to set himself up, and pushed on it. A wickedly loud crash ensued, and with it came the singsong voice of Sabine, ā€Lonan~!ā€ The demon chirped with positive cheer, ā€I told you to come down for breakfast a while ago, what are you still doing in bed?ā€

How long had it actually been? Two seconds perhaps? Lonan couldnā€™t tell. There was never any peace for the poor little bird that had nestled so deeply into his bedding, having only fallen back asleep moments ago. His mind had registered the turning of the door handle, yet he still hadnā€™t seemed to really hear it, or more-so simply ignored it. That skill had been trained so rigorously to perfection over the years, it wasnā€™t really surprising. However, what Four couldnā€™t ignore was the massive crash that followed. Not only was there a solid thunk on his door when Sabine pushed against it, but there was also the dresser.

It toppled over from its position in front of the door with the loudest crash imaginable, no doubt disturbing the entire house, falling over onto its face and undoubtedly damaging the aged wood and tarnished silver handles. It had been a very heavy piece of furniture, after all. Damn Sabine and his inhuman strength. It had really been a pointless measure to have attempted to barricade the door, which he was just now realizing was a thing that had happened, and Four really should have known better. But you couldnā€™t really blame his sleep-addled mind for it. Besides, it helped him sleep easier, or had, in this case.

Lonan had practically jumped out of his skin at the noise, having immediately startled and jolted upright a bit to prop his torso up by his hands, as he had been lying on his side beforehand. His heart was racing, hair ridiculously disheveled by his sleeping habits and eyes wide for a singular moment as he stared over at the chaos that had occurred right on his doorstep. His eyes now were mere slits and a very scornful look adorned his features. If he werenā€™t immortal now as well, he may have just suffered a heart attack at that. But that wasnā€™t the worst thing. Sabine had waltzed right in, announcing his presence- as if he needed to speak to do it, and it seemed that he had also brought along something even worse than all that. But Lonan wasnā€™t concerned with Natalia sitting on top of the overturned dresser at that moment, because Sabine was approaching, dangerously fast.

Sleep still clung to his form- ironically so as he hadnā€™t actually gotten any sleep- and so he did not have the speed or awareness to react properly in time. Sabine suddenly pounced him, crashing into the poor boy without a single concern for his wellbeing; though, it wasnā€™t like Lonan cold die at this point anyway. Bearing the full weight of the sadistic, overly-powered demon, Lonan easily went down, collapsing on his arms and getting his face plunged into the fluff of his mattress.

Sabine seemed to be oozing love and affection, completely unaware that he was suffocating his squawking blackbirk, who was currently struggling and flailing under him to try to regain his limbs and get the leverage and strength he needed to push the demon off.

Somehow he managed to hear and understand Sabine speaking of breakfast and how he had already called him down once. That was strange, thoughā€¦. He hadnā€™t heard the demon, or he had and he just didnā€™t remember. Mayhaps that was why he had barricaded his door in the first place. Yeah, that sounded about right- he had gotten up and pushed the dresser to blockade the door some time previously.

That didnā€™t really matter right now though, as Sabine was perched, cat-like, on top of him. The demon simply stared intently at the boyā€™s struggles, completely unconcerned. A few moments passed, a very smug look of triumph to his face, before he slid off of him. ā€Look at you, youā€™re such a mess; whenā€™s the last time you had any sleep, love?ā€ Sabine purred, a little hint of worry in his tone that was mostly drowned out by the excitement he held for the prospects of breakfast.

Once Sabine had finally gotten his fat body off of him and rolled over to sit next to him, Lonan had at last managed a breath of air, taking the action in a deep, gasping manner as he lifted his head up from the depths of his mattress. He glared at Sabine, eyes practically smoldering in irritation. Four ignored Sabineā€™s prior question, yet still deigned to humor him with an answer of sorts, ā€None of your business.ā€ His response was short and clipped, little more than a growl than anything else.

ā€Get out of my room, and take that thing with you.ā€ Fourā€™s harsh gaze travelled from Sabineā€™s shadowed form to that of the annoying redhead seated on his dresser. Heā€™d have to burn that now, poor thing. Though not poor enough for Lonan to actually care about saving it. He would have to get a new dresser from one of the abandoned rooms, or perhaps he could simply ignore the need for one. That way he wouldnā€™t be spotted by any of the others and would not be bothered with their desire to help or the need to stare at him since he would be so out in the open and in plain sight.

ā€Oh, donā€™t be sour,ā€ The demon spoke lightly, completely ignoring Lonanā€™s harsh gaze and even harsher words. ā€And I told you, weā€™re all having breakfast, which means you too.ā€ Sabine smiled and stretched out on his mattress rather languidly, quirking an eyebrow at Lonan in an unspoken challenge. ā€Of course, if you arenā€™t feeling well enough to walk, I can carry you~ā€ The monster teased, reaching out with a swift agility unmatched by humanity to scruff Lonanā€™s already messy hair with one thin hand.

Lonan completely ignored that one, caring little of Sabineā€™s reasons and excuses. The devil was getting very comfortable in the boyā€™s personal space, and Lonan didnā€™t like it one bit. Four simply stared at him with a harsh gaze, not batting an eye as Sabine looked down on him with that quirked eyebrow of his. They seemed to be locked in combat now, neither one standing down. Lonan would not be going to breakfast if he had anything to say about it. Sabine would inevitably outvoice him, thus nulling the point, but he would put up a fight nonetheless.

When Sabine purred out his little tease and had his hand suddenly on his head before he could get a word in edgewise, Four was further demeaned by the demon ruffling up his hair as if he were some child. His harsh golden orbs never left the demonā€™s own, a poisonous look oozing from them. With a swift hand he had Sabineā€™s own in his clutches, a harsh grip tightening around the slender palm and crushing it under the duress of his strength. Lonan removed the offending hand from his personal space, dropping it with utter disdain.

ā€I said, get out.ā€ With a merciless look, Lonan tilted his chin up, suddenly pushing the man off the bed with a foot to the stomach.

However, Sabine only seemed to hum in the back of his throat with amusement in response to the hand crushing and removal, and another little hum with allowing himself to be pushed off the bed. However, he suddenly grabbed Lonanā€™s ankle at the last second and pulled him off with him. Four had foolishly assumed that he had rid himself of the demon being too close to him, but just like the leech that Sabine was, they still seemed to be attached at the end of it all.

They fell onto the floor, Sabine on his back and Four landing awkwardly on his hands over him, foot in the demonā€™s grasp and twisted in an awkward direction. A laugh burbled from the demonā€™s throat, who was completely unfazed by Lonanā€™s dour mood or by the collision with the floor. His excitement and happiness wasnā€™t to be dampened by anything, not even Lonan.

ā€Iā€™ve got you now, little bird.ā€ He spoke as he straightened, now holding Lonan upside-down for a moment, simply looking him over and inspecting him for the best way to turn him the right way up without losing a grip on his catch. However, unlike Sabineā€™s facial features, Fourā€™s were completely unamused. He allowed Sabine his little moment of victory, simply staring up at him with lips subtly turned down in a light frown, waiting for the demon to refocus on him, as he knew he would. Lonan would wipe that smirk right off the manā€™s face, literally.

Four shifted slightly, swaying ever so faintly in Sabineā€™s grasp, and suddenly a foot-to-face experience was shared between the two of them. A satisfying smack resounded in the room as the sole of his foot connected with Sabineā€™s face.

The demon hadnā€™t been expecting it at all, and with the connection between the humanā€™s foot and his face, there was not only a loud smack, but a faint crunch as well as the bridge of his nose cracked and buckled under the force. Sabine let out a faint sound of surprise as blood dribbled from his face for a few seconds before the cartilage knitted back together. He did not, however, release Lonan like the boy had been holding out hope for. It hadnā€™t been likely to begin with, so it wasnā€™t too disappointing. Despite the fact, Lonan felt a bit of pride flourish when he heard the crack beneath the weight of his foot. It was true that it didnā€™t really affect the demon in any way, as was shown by the flesh just weaving back together, but it still felt good to take some of his anger out on the inhuman, even though at the moment he was more miffed than enraged. It was hard to catch Sabine off-guard, so his pride was well-founded despite being utterly insignificant.

Sabineā€™s face reddened and he dabbed at his face with his sleeve, effectively staining his shirt. ā€You know, if you are hungry, you can just ask, not kick me in the face, Birdie.ā€ Four hadnā€™t been expecting those words, and it was his turn to flush slightly. He had half a mind to kick Sabine again, but it would have been impossible; he had exhausted his body with the first round, what with being upside-down and working against gravity. A frown slipped onto his lips and his eyes shifted smoothly away from the demonā€™s face, arms crossed and cheeks faintly reddened from both irritation and some semblance of embarrassment.

ā€Youā€™ll have to wait though, weā€™re keeping the others waiting, after all.ā€ The demon then intoned. It was only then that it actually dawned on Four. A look of horror would have flooded his face if he hadnā€™t kept it so carefully controlled at that moment. He would be forced to be with the other people of the house, almost all of whom he despised, and be put on display for all to see. But at least it wasnā€™t a thing lightly suffered- he had gotten Sabine good today, and while the demon probably didnā€™t realize, there were still traces of blood on his face, a nice pink mark the size of a foot- quickly fading- and the fresh showings of a bruise just beginning to form. The signs of a struggle were definitely apparent.

However, Sabine suddenly shifted his grip on him, easily hefting the weight of his form and simply slinging him over his shoulder, arm secured across the boyā€™s thighs to ensure there would be no squirming away. But that didnā€™t mean that Lonan wouldnā€™t try, especially if it meant giving Sabine trouble. It would really only be for posterityā€™s sake, as he would quickly tire of the actions and settle into accepting his fate. At the first shift in position, Lonan had put his hands out to catch himself before he face-planted into Sabineā€™s back, but after settling himself, he dropped them and turned his head to the side, allowing it to bump against the demonā€™s lower back as Sabine carried him back over to the dresser where Natalia was impatiently waiting, looking completely fed up over the whole ordeal and having the most heinously sour expression towards Lonan. Lonan didnā€™t give a single inkling of concern towards her, didnā€™t even acknowledge her presence, just to get a further rise out of her.

If there was one good thing about this whole mess, it was getting the first spite of the day in against Nattia.

As Sabine scooped her back up in his free arm, Lonan firmly secured over his opposite shoulder, Sabine whistled cheerfully as he stepped over the dresser and back out into the hall, carrying his triumphantly caught quarry in one arm and his little lady in the other. Lonan would randomly burst into a fit of squirms and small kicks, arms flailing in the empty air, attempting to wrest himself free, but never to any avail.

And as such, the three of them headed down to breakfast.