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Fuegoleon stared down at the two silver-haired children that had, for all intents and purposes, been dumped at his feet. The eldest, Nebra, stared up at him like she expected him to lunge at her and she was prepared to lunge first. Her little brother Solid- Fuego vaguely recalled that he should be about three now -looked around, his eyes trailing from one billowing red curtain to the next.
He still couldn't believe he'd been conned into this. Meoroleona was the one who had begrudgingly agreed to babysit in the first place. And where was she? Gone. Gone so fast that Fuego hadn't even seen what direction she went. Didn't even have a direction to chase her. Now he was stuck with these two little gremlins, who, as far as he could tell, were as enthused about the arrangement as he was.
Curling his hand into a fist that was a little too tight for the action, he cleared his throat against his fingers and straightened his back. "So, why was it that you were left here?"
Solid's purple eyes turned to him as if he'd asked a very complicated question, but Nebra, as prepared for a question as she was for a strike, replied, "Because our mother has a pre-natal appointment."
It shouldn't have surprised Fuego that the eight-year-old talked like an adult, but it was still a little odd to hear how articulate she was. "Of course," he said without missing a beat. "You shouldn't be here long then."
Nebra regarded him as if he was getting dumber by the minute, and the look was so convincing that he re-checked what he'd said, hoping to beat down an embarrassing wave of self-consciousness. When he could find nothing out of place in his words, he went on, "What do you do for fun in House Silva?"
"What's that?" Solid asked, his voice sharp and squeaky.
He pointed at the tall, closed doors that led to the western courtyard. Beyond those doors, Fuego and Meoro had spent many an afternoon absolutely thrashing each other. They often held formal lessons there in their younger years, but with Meoro's frequent disappearances from the house, those were now few and far between. That didn't stop Fuego from making ample use of the space, of course, and even Nozel came by for a spar now and then. But the little ones had never been to House Vermillion-- not informally, like this.
A smile tugged at the corners of Fuego's lips. "That is where we train. But it is also a fine place for games. Would you like to play some games there?"
Solid and Nebra stared up at him as if the concept was foreign to them. But Solid, still young enough to catch a mood easier than a cold, perked up and bounced on his toes. "Yeah!"
"Grand! We'll play a game. Come with me!" He turned and marched to the door, with Solid scampering after him. With a flip of the lock, he pushed the doors open, and they stepped into the grassy courtyard, bathed in the warm light of the fresh summer day.
To Fuego's surprise, the children winced at the light. Nebra stopped just within the doorway, squinting down the hall to avoid the sun, and Solid stumbled back, rubbing his eyes like the sunlight burned. Fuego gave them a moment to adjust to the light, but his patience didn't seem to pay off. When several seconds had passed, he put his hands on his hips and tapped his boot on the dirt. "Come on, now! We can't play anything with you standing in the doorway like scared cats!"
"How dare you!" Nebra cried, whirling toward him to glare through the sun. "We are not cats!"
"Then step outside. Feel the sun on your skin. You're not so pale that you'll burn during a game of tag."
Solid watched his feet as he toddled into the grass. "What's tag?"
What's tag? The question was almost too much to bare. Meoro would get a vicious tongue lashing for leaving him with these aliens next time he saw her. He clenched his jaw, trying his best to bite back his frustration. It wasn't these poor kids' fault that they didn't know how to play. "It's a game, young Solid. One person chases the others, trying to touch them. When another is touched, they must chase down another. Understand?"
"Oh." It did not seem that he understood.
"That does not sound fun," Nebra declared.
Fuego huffed through his nose. Were all children like this? "Fine, then. We'll play hide and seek. Do you know that one?"
Solid lifted his head, braving the sun to squint up at Fuego's face as he contemplated deeply. "Yeah."
"Perfect. Who would like to count first? Solid, can you count to ten?"
"Um..." He looked down at his fingers for so long that Fuego feared he'd forgotten the question, but finally he replied, "Yeah!"
"Then Nebra and I will hide. Will that do, Young Nebra?"
She shrugged.
"Alright!" Fuego stepped around them both in one large stride and slammed the courtyard doors shut. The rush of air, and the suddenness of the motion, was enough to send Nebra dancing backward, and she stared up at Fuego with such a look of livid indignation that he knew he'd saved Solid from an unwinnable round of hide and seek. "Then, begin!"
Solid pressed his hands to his eyes and began a slow, careful count. A smirk tugging at his lips, Fuego darted, searching the thickets of trees and bushes for the ideal hiding spot. It had been ages since he'd played a fair game of hide and seek. Playing with Meoro was completely impossible, after all; he didn't understand what was wrong with her to make her so much like an animal, but he was convinced that she could track a fly across a ball room, and it was completely insufferable. These children, however, should have no super human powers of the like, and as long as he didn't go all out, he had no reservations about their tracking and hiding abilities. They need not know how games worked to be able to hide and seek.
Solid's count to ten took ages longer than it should have, but that was just fine to Fuegoleon; he took the time to hide in plain sight, picking a tree whose thick leaf cover and red-brown branches were the perfect cover. He reclined comfortably in the tree while he watched the toddler scan the courtyard. To Fuego's satisfaction, Nebra had similarly vanished.
Solid gave his all to the search, buzzing between rocks and bushes and clefts in the wall with real and earnest determination. He was not thorough, but Fuego guessed that he couldn't expect a near baby to be; surely there was something to be said that he was not taking this lightly. His brow was creased in concentration, yet his determined scowl was easily eased when he thought he'd found a clue, giving way to a toothy smile that hardened again when he did not discover his sister or babysitter.
When he'd exhausted every hiding spot within reach, Fuego decided to throw him a bone. He pressed his boot to the far end of a branch, forcing a shake of the leaves on its ends, and Solid's head popped up. He turned on his heel and bolted for the tree, stopping just short of running head-on into its trunk, and stared into the branches with a wild grin. At last, he raised his little hand and jabbed a finger in Fuegoleon's direction. "I see you!"
"You found me!" He slipped out of his spot, landing in a crouch beside the toddler. "Well done."
Solid startled at his descent, nearly falling over backwards, but the older boy's praise was more than enough to aid him in his recovery. He giggled and lifted his chin in a familiar pose that Fuego caught Nozel striking from time to time; a higher-than-thou show of pride that translated rather comically to a three-year-old.
"Now, we must find your sister," Fuego continued, before the boy's pride could lose its charm.
His eyes widened, and giving up his stance, he nodded seriously. "Nebra!" he called, turning and strolling back down the path. "Where are you?"
Another spike of irritation forced Fuego to pause. Did he really think that she would answer him? Surely not all children were this dumb. He certainly hoped his newest sibling wouldn't be. He trailed Solid, doing his own search while the child tried all the spots he'd already checked. As the minutes ticked by, Fuego's surprise grew: it appeared that Nebra had picked a very impressive hiding spot. He could not see her. And when he took a moment to search, he realized that he could not sense her mana either...
Surprise gave way to suspicion, and suspicion gave way to panic. Oh no. He had lost her. Where could she have gone? The courtyard was closed off. He knew for sure that these doors were far too heavy for a Silva to open-- Nozel couldn't easily pull them open by himself, and he wasn't an eight-year-old girl. Had she passed out somewhere? He still should have been able to sense her mana. Had she buried herself? What kind of magic did she have anyway? But something that moved that much earth would have been noticeable...
He took a breath. This was nothing to panic about. There were only so many places the girl could have gone, and all of them were contained to the courtyard. Wherever she'd gone, he would find her. She would be fine, and he would not be reprimanded for this. It was all just a game that-
"I see you!"
Wait, what?
Solid stood smack dab in the middle of the courtyard; Fuego wasn't right behind him anymore. His head was cocked up, and his finger was once again raised, and pointed directly at Nebra Silva. She was perched on a decorative cleft in the wall of the courtyard, two fucking stories off the ground.
Nebra curled a finger to her lips and giggled. "Well, it was about time."
How in the hell!?
"Nebra!" Fuego barked, his hands balling to fists. "How did you-- Get down from there!"
Her smile melted into an annoyed deadpan. "I was going to. That's how hide and seek works."
Fuegoleon watched in horrified disbelief as she rose neatly and walked the length of the cleft. There she took a leap, landed on the pillar about two feet away, and shimmied her way down. At the bottom, she dusted off her skirt and strolled to the center of the courtyard.
"I found you!" Solid proclaimed again, as if he hadn't just watched his elder sister parkour her way to the ground. He bolted to her, stopped on a dime, and clung to her leg.
"Yes, you've said that already." Despite the affectionate glint in her eye, she peeled him off of her and smoothed her skirt. "Then I suppose I am 'it'?"
Fuegoleon marched forward, lifted his hand, and uncurled his fist flat before bringing the side of it down on the top of Nebra's head. The maneuver wasn't violent-- Meoroleona did it to him at the first signs of a screw up --but Nebra crumbled under it, shrinking to a crouch and wrapping her arms around her head. She stared up at Fuego with wide, horrified eyes.
"Nebra, how could you do something so dangerous?" he bellowed. "Do you know how high up you were? You could have easily slipped and fallen! You could have been seriously hurt! Do you have no regard for your own safety!?"
She stared up at him, her eyes filling with tears. Fuego glared back, demanding a response. This should have been where she apologized; acknowledged her fault, and then they could move on with the game. But she didn't say a word. Tears spilled down her cheeks. And Fuego realized that this wasn't going the way it was supposed to go.
All at once she animated with a sob, her chest heaving as she struggled to wail an accusation. "You hit me!"
It was his turn to freeze up. Yes, he had, but that was what you were supposed to do when someone screwed up! It hadn't hurt! What had she expected him to do?
Another sob shaking her frame, she rose and darted. Solid, stunned to silence by this whole exchange, looked from her, to Fuegoleon. His expression hardened to one of decided hatred, and he hurried after his sister.
Fuegoleon watched them, feeling like the oxygen was being pumped out of the air. What just happened? Was this not what a babysitter was supposed to do? Was this not how you taught children how to behave? He hadn't hit her that hard! It didn't hurt!
But that didn't seem to matter to Nebra. In his disoriented haze, Fuegoleon hadn't even seen where she and Solid went. Their mana was easy to follow, of course, and the little girl's sobs echoed around the northwest end of the courtyard, where there was the least flora to swallow up the sound.
This probably meant that Fuegoleon had done something wrong. But he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. Was he supposed to apologize anyway? He had heard once that it was better to be happy than to be right, but this seemed like an odd application of that philosophy. Apologizing here didn't seem like it would make him happy. And he was right. He would not apologize for chastising dangerous actions. But he could apologize for... upsetting her so much?
With a sigh, he trudged toward the sound of crying. There, under a rose bush, he saw Nebra and Solid, the latter with her knees pulled to her chest, crying into them, and the former sitting beside her, rubbing her shoulder, and apparently crying in solidarity. As Fuego's shadow fell over Solid, he turned toward him, his round little face twisting into a vicious scowl. "Get back!" he cried, swinging a little hand at him. He only managed to swipe Fuego's shirt cuff, but he paused, hoping for a retreat anyway.
Nebra's head shot up, and Fuego realized that she hadn't noticed him approach until Solid had announced his arrival. Her eyes filled with fear-- real, genuine, fear --and she turned, crawling farther into the roses, even as the thorns caught and ripped at her hair and clothes. Solid followed on her heels, his short stature leaving him unaffected by most of the thorns as the two crawled out of range.
Fuegoleon stared after them as something that he did not recognize crept into his chest. These children hated him. They feared him. Genuinely. Not in a childish, petty way; they seriously believed that he'd bring them harm. He still could not quite land the mental acrobatics to bring this together, but somehow a simple correction had instilled in them a bitter, biting distrust.
He had to undo it. He had to make this right.
He stood, and tracking their mana, got an idea of where exactly they were going. The answer was simple and not good for anyone: the thickest part of the roses. Half of their logic was sound: there was no way he could follow them in there. But there was no way they could get out without some ample scratches. These were not the pretty little roses of most noble gardens. These were wild roses, chosen for their natural fortifications, and that meant long thorns.
"Nebra, Solid, come out," he entreated. "You will get hurt crawling around down there. It's safe out here. Return to the center of the courtyard immediately."
"Begone!" Solid squeaked.
"P... Please," Fuego tried again. "I only want to save you the pain. I will not upset you again. This has all gotten out of hand. Please forgive me."
"Begone!" Solid cried, tight and demanding.
Nebra's mana shifted and then billowed, manifesting in a cloud of mist. It bled from their hiding spot in thick, uneven ripples, expelled with great force but little precision. Nonetheless, it did the job: Nebra disappeared within the cloud of her own mana, and Solid faded to a fuzzy dot. Fuegoleon could no longer accurately track their location.
This wasn't going to work. Fuego was quickly learning that children had no sense; they would rather hide from a perceived threat than avoid an actual one. He ran his hand down his face and stalked to the center of the courtyard. He would have to think of something else.
Perhaps forcing them was the way to go. His mother would be livid, but he could burn through the rose bushes and catch the children. This would do nothing for their trust in him, but it would save them from the worst of the thorns, he hoped. If he was fast enough. And if he was precise.
That was no good. They would injure themselves severely trying to get away from him, and he would never forgive himself if he burned them, even if they were little balls of emotional nonsense. They were important to Nozel, and the Silvas, so he had to treat them with the appropriate respect. Blazing toward them or smoking them out were not the ways to do it.
Perhaps they could be bribed out? He could leave to get snacks, or... what else did children like? Apparently, not all of them liked games, so that wasn't a sure thing. Toys? He could dig up plenty of toys. But if they didn't like games, how could he know they liked toys? And what if they hurt themselves while he was not there? Then this would all be for naught. He would have failed, and he'd have no excuse.
He could threaten them-- not with his own power, but with the wrath of their parents, or their brother. Surely the elder Silvas could not condone this behavior. It was unbecoming of a common child, let alone royalty, and such things were very important to the Silvas. That may work, if these strange little creatures understood object permanence. But he vaguely recalled that babies didn't have that, and he wasn't sure if Solid was old enough to grasp the concept yet...
Of course, he could always wait them out. Someone would be by to pick them up before long. But what a dishonorable way for him to present them: crying and torn up, under a bush. Fuegoleon was not one to worry about appearances, but he knew he could do better than this. No, if there was any better way to present these children to their family-- and there was --then he must do all that he could to prove his worth as a babysitter. He may not have wanted the role, but now that he had it, he had to do his absolute best.
So what did that leave? Could he starve them out? How often did children need to eat? That could be a form of bribery, in which case all he had to contend with was their pride. But he had yet to beat Nozel's pride, and time was a factor. Maybe if he just....
He stopped.
Solid was standing in front of him.
He stared back at the toddler, unsure how to advance. He had half a mind to pounce on him, scoop him up and secure him before going after Nebra. A hostage was a fine way to go, under such low stakes, and if the two were as close as they seemed, it could be a good plan. But the toddler fighting him would only spook his sister more. Still, he couldn't let him get away.
But he wasn't moving.
"Nebra's stuck."
"Er... What?"
"Nebra's stuck in the bush." He jabbed a finger over his shoulder at the rose bushes, still shrouded in mist. It had spread and thinned, but was still far too thick for him to make out any shapes from where he was, several yards away.
"Oh." His gaze shifted back to Solid, still glaring up at him with a determined, but wary scowl. "That's no good then."
He continued to stare.
"I suppose I'll need to rescue her."
"Yeah."
Somehow, this practical baby could manage to be as scathing as Nozel. What an absolutely dreadful trait to find was inheritable. But that was far from Fuegoleon's concerns right now. He was needed as a babysitter, and he would not flub his opportunity to prove his worth. "Alright. Stay here, young Solid. I will save her."
The boy's critical gaze followed him all the way into the mist, but his feet stayed planted on the ground. Fuegoleon hoped he'd stay that way as he stepped into the mist, hands extended in front of him.
It was still thick at its center. He couldn't see past his hands, and his range of sight was quickly shrinking as he made his way, step by step, toward the thorn bushes. "Nebra?" he called. "I'm here to help. Where are you?"
Her voice came, quiet and defeated from somewhere not far ahead. "Over here."
"I am coming toward you. Can you disperse the mist? It would be easier to find you without it."
She sniffled. "No."
"I see. Then can you stop creating it?"
"I- I think I did."
She hadn't. But it had let up a little bit. Fuego assumed that was the best she could do. With his sight growing dimmer with each step, he decided his best bet was to track her mana to its source. But the girl's mana was, by nature, difficult to source. He focused, taking one step at a time as he tried to read the waves of the magic power and track exactly where it was coming from. But every time he thought he was tracking it, he would take a step toward it, and it would disperse, ripple away, and he'd question the move he made. This was exhausting. He would have to get better at tracking mana. He'd grown so accustomed to the flamboyant power of fire magic that he was totally unaccustomed to dealing with more nuanced types of magic.
All the while, he continued to talk. "Are you tangled in a thorn bush? The briars are quite long. I tried to warn you before, but you ran away."
She only replied with a soft whimper.
"That's alright, everyone makes that mistake. They look far less dangerous before they've ensnared you. Even I've been caught in them."
No response.
"...Even your brother's gotten caught in them before."
The mist shifted, and it wasn't from Fuegoleon. "...Nozel?"
He smiled. "Yes. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going once and ran right into them. We spent a good half hour freeing him from the thorns. His tolerance for pain isn't very high. He was crying like a baby."
She sniffled. Her voice had lightened. "Nozel? Really?"
"Really. So far, you're faring better." Through the mist, his hand brushed something softer than a briar. When it moved under his hand, he carefully closed his fingers around it. His confidence grew as he made out the silhouette of the little girl. "I've got you, Nebra. Now, while I work on untangling you, I'd like you to focus on dispersing the mist. Do you know how to do that?"
"I said I didn't," she murmured.
"Right, well..." He grew closer, working on untangling her arm first. It looked like the bush had caught her as she was up and out coming out, and she was so thoroughly tangled that he wouldn't be surprised if she really couldn't move at all. "Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Focus on drawing all of the energy around you inward."
He sensed the girl breathe in and out, and left her to it as he freed her arm up to the elbow. It came away from the plants with an ugly r-i-i-i-p. He wasn't surprised. Silva clothes were practically made of paper; they weren't built to last.
The mana around them thinned and softened. Fuegoleon wiped his brow as he pushed aside a branch, freeing her shoulder. "That's right! Now do it again. Draw everything closer until it is resting at your core."
The mist continued to thin. Fuego felt a rush as with each breath the girl took, his vision cleared, and he was able to free a little more of her. By the time he'd untangled all of the thorns from her hair, the air was clear around them, if not a little damp. He flicked the last brier out of her hair and flashed her a grin. "Very well done! You'll be in control of your mana in no time."
She stared up at him with wide eyes, and for a moment Fuego feared that she'd spook and dash again. But her expression lightened to something like relief, but friendlier. It was easily the softest look he'd ever seen on Nebra's face.
He stepped back and examined the work he had yet to do. She definitely tried to come up and out of this bush; the worst had been undone, but the thorns around her legs prevented her from taking a step forward. "I'm going to lift you out. That should free you without much more scratching. Alright?"
She stared carefully at him from under her lashes. "Alright."
He double-checked for thorns once more, and then took her under the arms and lifted up. She was as light as a doll. Just like he thought, most of the briers released their hold with ease, and those that didn't, Nebra easily kicked away. Just like that, she was free.
"There we are. Not that bad." He stepped back, well out of range of the rose bushes. "Now all that's left is to get you cleaned up." He went to lower her to the ground, but to his surprise, Nebra descended onto him, her arms and legs wrapping around him in a confident hold. He only needed a beat to adjust his balance, but the surprise lingered a little longer. Eight was a little old to be carried, but what was the harm...
Solid had moved to the edge of the path, and waited eagerly for them to return. As Fuego joined him, he circled him like a fish inspecting a lure. "Nebra?"
"I am alright, Solid," she said, her voice far steadier than it had been just minutes before. "Fuegoleon is going to get me new clothes."
"Am I, now?" There was that classic Silva arrogance. But as he glanced at her back and legs, he had to admit that perhaps this wasn't an unfair declaration. Her white and purple dress was shredded. The skirt fared better than the top, but it was all unseemly. As much as he hated to stroke the girl's ego, there was no way he could send her home like this. "Ah. So I am."
"Nebra bets new clothes?" Solid circled again and caught Fuego's eye with a look that went from critical to petty in an instant. "I want new clothes!"
"Solid, you don't need new clothes," Nebra admonished.
"I want new clothes!" He balled his fists and stomped his foot. "New clothes! New clothes! New clothes!"
Nebra let out long sigh, and Fuegoleon relished that for once, they were on the same page. It was clear that Solid was just getting started, and this tantrum would only get worse with time. Fuegoleon had picked enough battles to know that this was not one he wanted to fight. "Alright, Solid, you can get new clothes, too."
He stopped mid-stomp and leered at him. "Pomise?"
"I promise."
Instantly, his expression lightened. Rolling his eyes, Fuegoleon snatched his hand and plodded to the door. He would need to find a healing servant and someone to dress these ridiculous children.
. . .
In under thirty minutes, the Vermillion servants had both the youngest Silvas cleaned, healed, and dressed. Fuegoleon sat in the sitting room, watching Nebra admire her appearance in a full-length mirror brought to the room for the purpose. She wore one of Meoroleona's old outfits, which was far too broad for her slender frame, but obviously, she didn't mind. Fuegoleon didn't particularly think that the reds and blues did her complexion justice, but far be it from him to give anyone fashion advice. Sitting on the couch beside him, Solid was even more hilariously dressed in the smallest shirt anyone could find in this wing of the castle, pulled back and tied in various places so that he was not completely lost in it. Solid was perfectly content in this clownish state; he was watching his sister with a studious and admiring smile, completely devoid of any higher thought.
"I rather like the Vermillion attire," Nebra declared, her gaze still on the mirror. "It's boorish for formal events, but it does have a certain something that Silva fashion does not."
"Is that so?" Fuego could think of about a dozen comebacks that were more facetious, but he didn't know if drawing Nebra into banter would be the best idea.
"The colors are... energetic." She popped her collar and flipped her hair, which the servants could absolutely not get to look right. "Yes, I like them."
"I'm glad you're a fan," he said earnestly. "If the urge strikes you, I'm sure we could have something made in your size."
"Oh, no! Never!" she scoffed. "Well, at least not now."
He cocked a brow at her. She returned it with a sly look over her shoulder. Then she turned back to the mirror. "But I may come over for other reasons. It seems that the House Vermillion is not as pitiful as my big brother says it is."
Fuegoleon laughed; he would have been offended if he wasn't so unsurprised. "I'm glad it could impress you."
"Yes, you have."
Again, he regarded her bemusedly. "I guess you're not afraid of me then?"
Nebra's face reddened in the mirror. She turned away from it and strode to the other end of the room, stopping in front of a small book case as if she had any interest in reading the titles. "Of course not. It's not your fault you're so stupid."
"Stupid?"
"Yes. You are too stupid to know not to hit a lady of the House Silva."
"Ah. I see." He leaned back and crossed his hands. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Solid's adoring gaze had turned icy, and to him. Unfortunately, the time had come for him to be the bigger person. "I apologize for the offense. I was only concerned for your safety."
"Yes, yes, you made your point," she said, flapping the long sleeve of her top at him. "Just never ever do it again. Understand?"
"I understand."
"Then I will not tell on you."
Fuegoleon let out a long, loud sigh. "Thank you, Nebra."
There was a knock on the door, and a servant poked her head in. "Master Fuegoleon, Lord Nozel is here to pick up the children."
"Big brother's here!" Solid launched himself off the couch and raced to the door. The servant pushed it open and jumped out of his way before he could collide with it or her, and Solid disappeared out of it without missing a beat. Nebra strode out the door, her expression back to its regal deadpan but the blush not entirely washed out of her cheeks.
Nozel stood just outside the door, staring down at his little brother with a slightly furrowed brow. Solid was telling him something rather fervently, but the speed at which he was speaking had the words tripping over and running into each other, and it was mostly incomprehensible. The eldest Silva's gaze shifted to Nebra as she joined them in the hall, and speaking over Solid, Nozel asked, "What are you wearing?"
"Our clothes were damaged playing games, so we had to make do with what was on hand," Nebra replied, giving the sleeve of her top a berating flick. Apparently her taste in attire had chanced once she'd walked out of the room.
Nozel turned to Fuego accusatively, but he continued to address Nebra. "What were you playing?"
"Hide and seek!" Solid declared. "I won!"
"I won!" Nebra corrected, glaring at the toddler.
"Nebra got stuck in a bush!"
"I did not!"
"Nebra cried!"
"No I didn't!"
The look on Nozel's face was some consolation to Fuegoleon; apparently, his exasperation with these horrible tiny people wasn't completely unfounded. "That's enough," Nozel said. "The details of such things are irrelevant to me. We are going home." As he turned, he snatched up Solid's hand and toted the three-year-old behind him. Solid happily bounced after him, continuing his recall of their excursion. Nebra fell in line beside him. As the two headed out of the wing, they both looked over their shoulders: Nozel with a look of begrudging thanks, and Nebra with a smirk that Fuegoleon couldn't place. Fuego returned their looks with a smile and a wave.
He decided that, all things considered, he'd been a pretty good babysitter.