I be the son o' the Crimson King, awful's ta be expected.
*As if in answer to the comment, an elderly taheen man with a bird's head lacking half the feathers walks up to them curiously.* "L-little king? L-little Red K-king? Is that you, sir?"
Yes, it's me. *He sighs.* I'm not the kind o' god as heals, ya ken. Certainly not when the disease be time.
"O-oh, I don't expect that. But the Little Red King must be fed, say true, an' I'm so very tired . . ."
*Mordred attempts to make his smile reassuring. It's not perfect, but better than nothing.* Ah, I see. Sit with us a while, then, old-timer.
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*As if in answer to the comment, an elderly taheen man with a bird's head lacking half the feathers walks up to them curiously.* "L-little king? L-little Red K-king? Is that you, sir?"
Yes, it's me. *He sighs.* I'm not the kind o' god as heals, ya ken. Certainly not when the disease be time.
"O-oh, I don't expect that. But the Little Red King must be fed, say true, an' I'm so very tired . . ."
*Mordred attempts to make his smile reassuring. It's not perfect, but better than nothing.* Ah, I see. Sit with us a while, then, old-timer.