the things we hold are always the first to go
"Sorry for what?" Ronin asked automatically, his smile growing a touch warmer as Amalia turned her attention on Aoife; the girl was grumpy today, but she still managed a half-hearted burble of greeting to the baker. Leading them through into the greathall where all the shutters and doors were thrown open to let a draught through, Ronin set Aoife down on one of the rugs so he could speak properly with Amalia. Instantly, the child wiggled onto her hands and knees and began to crawl away - Ronin had long stopped trying to get her to keep still.
"The Oasis sounds wonderful about now," he admitted. "Might be an idea for tomorrow." He smiled over at Aoife, who was trying to pull herself up against one of the chairs. "Hm? Ah, yeah. I didn't feel like jail, so... enlisting it is." He shrugged. "I've been a soldier for over a decade, so it's hardly new to me."
"The Oasis sounds wonderful about now," he admitted. "Might be an idea for tomorrow." He smiled over at Aoife, who was trying to pull herself up against one of the chairs. "Hm? Ah, yeah. I didn't feel like jail, so... enlisting it is." He shrugged. "I've been a soldier for over a decade, so it's hardly new to me."
