[ The clink of armor is indistinct at first, an undertone to the babble of sound generated by the home base's occupants, and the comings and goings of the defensive forces around the camp. But it is not longer before silver and purple steel-bound legs step into Riku's line of view, dark purple wings at the knee fluttering briefly. Something light brushes across his shoulders, before black wing primaries shelter the crouched form. ]
You should not be here! [ Her voice is firm, admonishing, as Gwendolyn looks down at a rather familiar little boy. ] You should be in the shelters, little one.
[A]
You should not be here! [ Her voice is firm, admonishing, as Gwendolyn looks down at a rather familiar little boy. ] You should be in the shelters, little one.