Same people.
Different idiots.
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Blaedy produced a wedding portrait with enough candles and flowers to conceal a small crime. Apparently the tall elf beside me was my son. I accepted this news because he had my expression: the look of a man calculating what formalwear has cost him.
Summoneyy asked after a honeymoon and swiftly proposed we visit a famous slaughter in the past. Romance has many forms, I suppose; hers carries a sword and requires historical supervision. By the end of it she had acquired a son as well. The poor fellow did look prepared for bad news.