The streets of Arcania never truly slept. Even now, in the lull between sun's descent and moon's full dominion, mana-lit lanterns pulsed like quiet hearts along the arches of silverstone roads, casting elongated shadows over ever-moving silhouettes. And amongst it all, boots striking cobble without urgency nor aim, Lucavion walked.
Not with a purpose, per se. No destination. Just the luxury of time—something he hadn't known the taste of in a long while.
Vitaliara perched lightly on his shoulder, tail wrapped loosely around his neck, her presence half-feline, half-forgotten royalty. She glanced at the passing noble banners, the flickering lights that rose from the taverns and candidate lounges nearby.
[You seem… pleased with yourself.] Her voice was soft, but not without edge—like silk draped over a blade.
Lucavion's smile curved, faint but unmistakable. "Is it that obvious?"
[Only when you try to look too casual.]
