So gather up your jackets, move it to the exits
Who: Roy Harper and a few.
What: Last goodbyes.
Where: Just specify where you want to catch him: Paradisa castle, the northern outpost, or on the road.
When: Mid-January.
It had been a week since his ultimatum to Reno, and no response. For all the time he packed, belted on the knife from Rin and pulled new leathers from the closet, Roy was cursing himself for a fool. He should've seen the alert from Zexion. Should've found out about it earlier. Should've spent January in maybe slightly less of a damn haze of - of selfishness when one of his real friends was out there in trouble. When he might actually be the only real friend she had.
Sida whined at his knee when he slung on his pack, and he looked down at the half-grown golden. "Damn. Can't leave you for a sitter, can I?" Because that would tip someone off, that he was going. No followers. The dog, he supposed, counted less for that rule than an angry girlfriend or two.
And then he made himself stop thinking about angry girlfriends before he lost his nerve.
He did, however, scratch a parting filter in his journal. Just in case.
Hokay, Roy. Dog at your heels, pack on your back. You don't look suspicious at all! Good thing you only have to get to the basement from here.
What: Last goodbyes.
Where: Just specify where you want to catch him: Paradisa castle, the northern outpost, or on the road.
When: Mid-January.
It had been a week since his ultimatum to Reno, and no response. For all the time he packed, belted on the knife from Rin and pulled new leathers from the closet, Roy was cursing himself for a fool. He should've seen the alert from Zexion. Should've found out about it earlier. Should've spent January in maybe slightly less of a damn haze of - of selfishness when one of his real friends was out there in trouble. When he might actually be the only real friend she had.
Sida whined at his knee when he slung on his pack, and he looked down at the half-grown golden. "Damn. Can't leave you for a sitter, can I?" Because that would tip someone off, that he was going. No followers. The dog, he supposed, counted less for that rule than an angry girlfriend or two.
And then he made himself stop thinking about angry girlfriends before he lost his nerve.
He did, however, scratch a parting filter in his journal. Just in case.
Hokay, Roy. Dog at your heels, pack on your back. You don't look suspicious at all! Good thing you only have to get to the basement from here.