This girl, she did not consider herself bound to Dahlia. Such information only served to further his ambition—those without strong bonds to a singular place were weak. Truth be told, much of this could be said for Larkspur. He, however, had a separated and much more potent duty to uphold. No one, not even Dahlia de Mai’s leader, could sway him from that. Misery might have left him to his own devices, but Larkspur would follow what path he needed to in order to complete the task at hand.
His young companion was not only free in spirit, but with her mouth as well. She began to talk, and boy did she talk. Naniko was the only D’Angelo around, and had children, and could write. The excitement was still hiding under the mask of placidity, but his eyes were burning as if a fire had been lit behind them. “I’m looking for my family,” he explained, but did not go further from this point. “Do you know where I can find her?”
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