[Irial is leaning against a tree by Lake Meridian, smoking, This is not a new sight. But the faery was supposed to be dead, a fact he is still trying to reconcile. He is alive, again. His house is empty. Niall is gone. There are so many video calls about events he doesn't even remember.
[And so he is awake early, trying to think, staring at the
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[Upon realising the call is live - a twitch of the thumb inadvertently calling him up - she promptly ends it, offering perhaps five seconds of her lovely scowl.]
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Do you faeries seriously only ever think of yourselves?
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I found out because it was broadcast.
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I'm not having this conversation. It's not going to happen, Irial. [a pause.] You know my brother hates your guts?
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I don't know.
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You know where to find me.
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