[The beach at night is secluded enough to keep their conversation from drifting along the wind into any prying ears, but then again, Lobelia's control of audiomancy is so fine as to let him isolate their conversation to this stretch of sand they've settled on.
With a cocktail in hand, there are a few bottles between them, Lobelia stretched out on a lounger while they discuss the finer things in... death.]
WEEK ONE: tuesday night, beach.
With a cocktail in hand, there are a few bottles between them, Lobelia stretched out on a lounger while they discuss the finer things in... death.]
So what do you make of our predicament, monsieur Wuxian? I would think a nΓ©cromancien can stomach the sight of a corpse or two.