LIONEL.

▍STREETS HUM, GLASS SHINES, AND IN THE STILLNESS — 𝑷͟𝑬͟𝑹͟𝑭͟𝑬͟𝑪͟𝑻͟𝑰͟𝑶͟𝑵 𝑩͟𝑹͟𝑬͟𝑨͟𝑻͟𝑯͟𝑬͟𝑺.

[LIONEL. @Foregallant]

⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀▍... 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬 𝑷𝑶𝑬𝑻𝑹𝒀.
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀ CITIES, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ HEARTS,
⠀⠀⠀⠀ AND OTHER IMPERFECT
⠀⠀⠀⠀ STRUCTURES.
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀

[LIONEL. @Foregallant]

⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀
END OF 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀

[LIONEL. @Foregallant]

⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀
He stayed silent, fingers tracing the rim of his glass in slow, absent circles. Even without a word, everyone could tell. He wasn’t fine.
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀

[LIONEL. @Foregallant]

⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀
@RaksiAnyelir
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀

[LIONEL. @Foregallant]

⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀
“Wait… make ‘what’ easier, again? Did I miss something?” Lionel was definitely not going to let that pass by, now that he’s fully aware of the conversation. He looked at his father and mother, trying to figure out their intention.

⠀⠀⠀

[LIONEL. @Foregallant]

⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀
@RaksiAnyelir
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀

[LIONEL. @Foregallant]

⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀
For a brief moment, he didn’t know what to do except offer a polite, awkward nod.

“This is my son,” Arya finally said.

Lionel smiled, gestured a little bow with his head. “Hello. You can just call me Lionel.”

⠀⠀⠀