"Check for any weak points, specifically on their back. They'll probably be durable everywhere except one spot... That's how Siegfried's is. Maybe they'll be different. Just keep an open eye for weird markings on their body."
With a careful hold, Kreimhild would gently hold Lucilla in her arms.
"She's so precious... you can leave them with me whenever you need to."
Kreimhild would hold the baby a little closer, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
βOf course.β
Expectedly, Jeanne look tired. She picked up one of the children, cradling them before handing her to the grandmother.
βThis is Lucilla...β
The woman's heart melted at the sight of the twins, lowering herself to sit on her knees.
"Two beautiful names for two beautiful girls...can I hold one of them?"
Kreimhild made sure her voice was quiet enough not to disturb the girls.
The two infants slept peacefully near Jeanne. Save for their hair and eye color which they've undeniably inherited from Sieg, they looked exactly like their motherβsprouting tiny, tiny dragon wings.
βMarceline and Lucilla...β
"Too the point where something bad enough occurs, then yes. The extent to...those two..."
The Berserker avoids eye contact for a brief moment.
"Whoever you wish to execute...I shall go along with it."
" Those people wouldn't be . . .
great to kill , I'm afraid , never the less though . . .
Perhaps you've ought to bare hate towards worse people than those . . . "
His eyes sharpen , a faint red glare . It appears as if he was trying to stare into her soul .
Jeanne can be seen just barely awake in a hospital bed, light bags under her eyes...
However there were two infants right by her sideβtwo girls, both dirty blonde and sprouting two, tiny wings.
βMy little joys...β
He squeezes her hand desperately. It doesn't seem like he'll be letting go of her any time soon. That notion is excentuated when he pulls her into a tight hug.
"That looks good on you. I bought some clothes for you. It seems my measurements were correct."
The Berserker nods, leaving it there. She had a scary talent of clocking in people's clothes sizes. Kreimhild was a fashionista at heart.
"If you're looking to get in the water, sure. It's harder to just lounge around in the sun after that point. Maybe you'd get lucky in the fall, but winter's a no-go."
Berserker puts the walkway up with a button's press.
"Sharkurd, start the boat up."
She commands the shark man
β
β β β β Does it. . .? I thought people still went to regulated pools and stuff. Like the indoor water parks or something. β
β β β She'd followed after the Berserker, glancing around curiously.
β
"I did say we would have a mother daughter outing on the water when we went swimsuit shopping for you. Besides, this outfit collects dust once the summer passes anyway."
The fan would rest at her side, stepping onto the boat's walkway.
β
β β β . . . . .what is that evenβ?
β β β A shark wearing armor was the last thing she expected to see today,,
β β β β You're rather prepared for this, huh? I think you're the most excited for summer out of everyone I've seen so far. β
β
"You'll get used to it. Now that we're finally out here, we shall board the S.S Lorelei. I've made all the arrangements for snacks and drinks."
The woman gestures to the yacht by the woman. It was being operated by a shark man?
The mother had moved closer to place a hairpin in the son's hair. It seemed that he Pretender's question had already been answered.
"Hm...blue looks better."
"Liars and people who can't practice basic communication...things would be much easier that way if people avoided those two things.
The Berserker would close her eyes for a moment, recalling what exactly drives her madness enhancement up a wall.
" Let me think . . .
Hmm . . .
Let's see . . .
I suppose I want to know what drives you crazy . "
He'd maintain a friendly exterior β It doesn't suit a man like himself though .
γ € He'd have a practiced smile prepared β It doesn't fit the question at all .
The Berserker would be found in one of her favorite places: the mall. It had many commodities that her own time couldn't provide.
"Blue looks better..."
"Your history of a lack of communication is quite poor, but I'll give you...once more chance. Just don't go and mess it, dummy...I'm running out of ways to say use your head."
The Berserker would slowly reach her hand out, eventually taking her husband's hand.
It took him a moment to speak again. He's trying to pick his words carefully.
"Have... Ich ever not done what Ich promised to do? Du know Ich am not intelligent, but Ich am at least steadfast.
He held out his hand to hers. It was up to her to take it or not.
The wife would take one step closer. His words seemed to be doing something. Any attempt was better than nothing given his history.
"How do I know you'll stick to the words you're saying...?"
Kreimhild would hesitate to reach her hand out. It was halfway extended.
"Ich know... Ich will suffer for so long to make it up to du. Ich will do whatever du want mich to do. Und if it ist not enough... then Ich will try again... und again. Over und over again."
He strained to come out with those words. He wasn't normally this eloquent.
"...you owe more than me just an apology, you know..."
The Berserker would look away for a brief moment. Eventually, she'd made eye contact briefly with a sigh. The apology wasn't something the wife had expected just yet. She'd wager it would've taken longer to come out with.
"Kriemhild..."
He needed a moment to collect his thoughts. The dragon slayer was nervous. He was rarely nervous. His heart was beating so incredibly fast. His body shook as he spoke.
"Ich am sorry, Kriemhild."
"What is it...?"
The Berserker would stop for a brief moment, stopping her strut with one final click of the heel of her shoe. She wasn't holding out much hope for any progress after this has been the second time his words failed him in horrible circumstances.
(+)
He sensed she was about to leave. So he quickly stood up. His sword, which he just spent no small amount of time sharpening, clanged to the ground.
"Kriemhild! Ich..." He started to at least stop her in her tracks.