The Aftermath.
Lucivar is sitting outside, on the porch, staring out into the distance at nothing in particular. His arm is wrapped up in a sling close to his chest, still broken - he's avoiding Jaenelle for now. There's only a Twin again. And this time, he could have prevented it. Should have prevented it. And somehow he didn't.
He's not moving much, if at all, just the simple rise and fall of his chest, blinking every so often, face very quiet, expressionless. But there's a bleak coldness in his eyes that doesn't match with the relaxed posture or the expressionless face.
He's not moving much, if at all, just the simple rise and fall of his chest, blinking every so often, face very quiet, expressionless. But there's a bleak coldness in his eyes that doesn't match with the relaxed posture or the expressionless face.