"I wish that I could remain forever with you. Unfortunately... my time here is coming to an end, children."

     He smiles, and he hides his sadness behind his joy at your growth, your ascension. He hides from you what he knows - that soon he will be leaving, and not for a little while, but for good. Tiernan ruffles your hair, and he moves to follow you, hand to your shoulder.

     Gwilym smirks again, and he moves through the gap, bringing you with him. There's a brief and blinding flash, and when vision returns to normal, you - and he - are in the shadows outside what appears to be a tavern, at night. A string of red paper lanterns dangles above the doorway, and red lightbulbs show behind closed shades.

     "About ... what and what?" Anierin says. He looks back and forth between his fathers.

     His professional demeanor melts slightly into humor. "I was hoping that pain would be a deterrent. However, he is a ...very determined man." A kind way of saying that he is a stubborn pain in the ass.

     Resting his chin on a folded hand, Anierin moved a tiny model ship, a miniature of The Draigamor along the ripples of a woven rug and over the swell of his father's boots.

     "Because I'm the youngest and I am the last one left," he wonders. "Balthazar will be getting married, Gruffydd is married." He glances to you.

     Mentally, Pres facepalms. We're gonna need a bigger boat. He looks both ways. Where is someone to rescue him now?

     "He is incredibly brilliant," Gruffydd quietly notes. "Very sensitive. But he's our heart and soul. I'm glad you were able to meet him tonight, Preston..."

     Eventually your words do circle around in the canals of his ears. Anierin looks at the flowers, and then at you again. A bit shocked, a bit glassy-eyed, but like you, he has to face that time does, indeed, march on.