"Perhaps. But I'd expect you to be more accustomed too it."

Strange behaviour aside, Tarja vaguely recalls seeing this kid once before in the infirmary. She wonders what he's doing out here... "Everything alright, kid?"

"Hell if I know." Tarja responds sharply, her hands seated upon her hips. Unfortunately for Clive, the only seamstresses she knows of don't exactly tailor to his dimensions. "Why not try asking around the markets? I'm sure someone there would be of more help to you than I."

"Ice cream...?"

"I see. I've heard of something like that, actually. Just not known by that name. Suppose there's no harm in trying."

"There's a saying I hope doesn't catch on."

Though Tarja can see he speaks not to her directly, she still provides an answer to his curiosity. "That's just the way of life for us lot... Outside of here, there's not many places we can call home. — And those of us who do not return serve as a testament of our unwelcome."

Don't make her resort to tying him down to the bed for his treatment. Because she will.

|| If I was smarter, I would without a doubt write Vivian as well. But she's too educated for my smooth brain.

Some fighting you'll be doing, when you're too weak to even stand on your own two feet.

And when the phoenix's wings are clipped, what then? How do you intend to fly when you have burnt yourself down to nothing but ash? You're a resilient one, I'll give you that. But you can't continue to play the hero without prioritising your own health first on occasion.

Must those two always be this stubborn. Honestly.

Correction. The three of you.

That dog has more common sense than you and your merry band combined.

Best keep hoping, then.

The brains of it, too.

If you're thinking of the Rosfield's, then you would be right.

Obedient to a fault...

"It's too early to say... As long as you're nothing like Clive, you should be fine."

|| Hey folks, hope you've been well. I've been a bit sick, but I'll try get my replies done before the weekend. Thanks for your patience. ❤