And when the phoenix's wings are clipped, what then? How do you intend to fly when you have burnt yourself down to nothing but ash?
You're a resilient one, I'll give you that. But you can't continue to play the hero without prioritising your own health first on occasion.
@ChainedBasilisk "Anywhere that isn't here, at this exact second."
Tarja responds, her tone one of mirth, humoured by this change of character. And though she hesitates to do so, she reluctantly draws her hand away.
"Don't take this as rejection, but a deferral. Let us meet again at nightfall."
Though Tarja can see he speaks not to her directly, she still provides an answer to his curiosity.
"That's just the way of life for us lot... Outside of here, there's not many places we can call home. — And those of us who do not return serve as a testament of our unwelcome."
ㅤ
〝The people here, they come, and they go...〞
Void of any real tone, he's responds without so much as lifting his gaze to meet her. Though he continues to muse aloud to himself.
〝But to where? And for what?〞
ㅤ
"Hell if I know."
Tarja responds sharply, her hands seated upon her hips. Unfortunately for Clive, the only seamstresses she knows of don't exactly tailor to his dimensions.
"Why not try asking around the markets? I'm sure someone there would be of more help to you than I."
"I need the armor for combat, though I could look into getting something more comfortable when in the hideaway."
He tried to think for a moment. Long as he did he couldn't think of a time he actually shopped for clothing since before Phoenix Gate.
"Where to start, though..?"