9 minutes ago
|| the day the plane crashed.||
Here's where the young man sat, the annoying yet tolerable pain of tapping on his back caused a soft sigh to leave him and he shifted which got a soft thwap and scold from the woman who was giving him the tattoo. He muttered a small sorry before blue eyes looked up to the small cluster of his soldiers running towards him. "What is it now?" He demanded, a slight annoyance in the young general's voice as he silently dismissed the woman and she stood back, placing the tools down next to her. "There's....there's been a plane crash, sir." The first solider spoke and Enoch sat up, his eyebrow cocked slightly. "You...you're pulling my leg?" He mused with a slight head tilt. "No, sir. Asta is there searching for survivors." The solider continued. "Along with Commander Sær." That's when Enoch stood up, he grabbed his crutch and a cup of mead. "Well if Asta and father are there...might as well be serious." He spoke, his bringing the small cup to his lips. "Bring any survivors to me." He barked, a devious smirk coming from the brunette man.
"Let the games begin."
Enoch muttered, chucking softly.