[It’s not a terribly difficult fact to discern, or even a wild assumption to make — not when Kazuha was covered in the colour and littered with maples. It would be more surprising to hear it wasn’t his favourite colour, given the amount he wore.]
Tch, you better be on your deathbed before even considering trying to convince me of that.
[The idea of taking care of the mortal isn’t exactly appealing, were he to get sick from this or anything else. Scaramouche has plenty to occupy his time with, things he actually wants to be doing, and would rather not chip time away from if it could be helped. The thought of merely healing him, were it to happen, crosses his mind — was that something he could heal away?
The thought is swept away before he can think too hard on it, allowing the Harbinger to focus on trailing after his companion for the day.
He glances at the shops, making note of just how many offer various foods and drinks, of the quaint little trinkets and souvenirs used to entice people into buying, feeding into that all too human need for sentimentality. Memorabilia from a day out to a place pretty enough to trick the senses into thinking something to remember it by was needed.
When Kazuha speaks again he offers up a small hum, adjusting the scarf a little higher around his neck. Souvenirs he doesn’t see use in, but food — drink — he wouldn’t mind.]
no subject
[It’s not a terribly difficult fact to discern, or even a wild assumption to make — not when Kazuha was covered in the colour and littered with maples. It would be more surprising to hear it wasn’t his favourite colour, given the amount he wore.]
Tch, you better be on your deathbed before even considering trying to convince me of that.
[The idea of taking care of the mortal isn’t exactly appealing, were he to get sick from this or anything else. Scaramouche has plenty to occupy his time with, things he actually wants to be doing, and would rather not chip time away from if it could be helped. The thought of merely healing him, were it to happen, crosses his mind — was that something he could heal away?
The thought is swept away before he can think too hard on it, allowing the Harbinger to focus on trailing after his companion for the day.
He glances at the shops, making note of just how many offer various foods and drinks, of the quaint little trinkets and souvenirs used to entice people into buying, feeding into that all too human need for sentimentality. Memorabilia from a day out to a place pretty enough to trick the senses into thinking something to remember it by was needed.
When Kazuha speaks again he offers up a small hum, adjusting the scarf a little higher around his neck. Souvenirs he doesn’t see use in, but food — drink — he wouldn’t mind.]
Tea sounds nice.