[ Morgan doesn't even know the sniper is there until its body hits the floor with a splash. Even that's hard to hear with the constant patter of rain against the hood of his robe -- but Noire's familiar declaration of demise cut through it all, almost as piercing as her arrow.
Noire is out of formation, if he recalls his mother's battle plan correctly, but he can't say he's ungrateful. Quickly, he finishes off what had been been distracting him: a battered Risen war monk, simple prey to Morgan's sword and the weapon triangle. With a satisfied huff, he turns back toward Noire, her shape vague in the rain.
It was strange seeing her again, with hair too light and manners too distant. Not that she was ever cold -- they were trusted friends, just as they'd always been. The first time he saw her, after months and months and months for him and but a day for her, she'd asked if something was wrong. He was staring, and... was there something on her face, Morgan?
It was stranger still to watch her fall in love with someone else. It wasn't a surprise, really; he'd learned long ago, in another place, that different timelines were different realms of possibility. But he couldn't help looking and seeing and remembering, and if at times he said too little or excused himself too early in their presence, it was only because he remembered too well.
He raises a hand in greeting now, crossing to her darkened form. ]
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Noire is out of formation, if he recalls his mother's battle plan correctly, but he can't say he's ungrateful. Quickly, he finishes off what had been been distracting him: a battered Risen war monk, simple prey to Morgan's sword and the weapon triangle. With a satisfied huff, he turns back toward Noire, her shape vague in the rain.
It was strange seeing her again, with hair too light and manners too distant. Not that she was ever cold -- they were trusted friends, just as they'd always been. The first time he saw her, after months and months and months for him and but a day for her, she'd asked if something was wrong. He was staring, and... was there something on her face, Morgan?
It was stranger still to watch her fall in love with someone else. It wasn't a surprise, really; he'd learned long ago, in another place, that different timelines were different realms of possibility. But he couldn't help looking and seeing and remembering, and if at times he said too little or excused himself too early in their presence, it was only because he remembered too well.
He raises a hand in greeting now, crossing to her darkened form. ]
Thank you, Noire. Great timing.