It was a warm, sunny, beautiful day here in Fandom, and look at how much it wasn't raining anything weird. You're welcome, parents, friends, assorted guests and fair citizens of Fandom who didn't want to explain that sort of thing right off the bat
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She hadn't known what she'd expected this place to look like, but so far, this was really not it.
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He scrawled "RAWK" on it, not really sure why anyone would need his name, and went off in search of his wayward nephew.
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She hadn't forgotten her identifier, no. And she never, ever would.
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Well, it would do people well to be mindful of the quiet Warlord Prince who made his way through the crowd, absorbing what was going on around him with unconcerned glances.
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"If I have to play nice with people, you have to wear a nametag."
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"Is that how it works, now?"
Funny, he'd missed that memo.
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His name wasn't exactly obscure, in Tereille. And here, he'd gathered, people seemed utterly incapable of comprehending that there was an 'a' in 'Daemon.' There was really nothing for it.
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Yes, she just wanted to annoy him.
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"Ah. Is it really so simp-" Something that was almost a friendly reply broke off, there, tapering into silence as Daemon pulled in a slow, deep breath. He frowned, and when he spoke again, his voice had gone just a little quieter. "Surreal."
He stepped toward her, and then breathed in again, trying to discern where that other scent that he was picking up was coming from. And, he suspected, it was coming from Surreal.
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...why was he looking at her? ...fuuuuuuuuuck.
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"What have you been up to?"
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Another step closer to her. That cool, dangerously calm look on his face simply settled in place while he followed the scent toward her.
"Really?"
Mother Night, there had been a reason she'd been sent to this island in the first place.
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Mother Night, what was his problem?
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