⟬ One life-or-death situation and a round of questions later... ⟭
Tycondrius sat in front of his fiancee, back-straight, scanning Starfury's visual interface for anomalies.
As the notion of him sitting on her lap came with some peculiar issues, Natalya had her legs splayed out to accommodate him.
It was one-part awkward, another-part intimate... but the seating arrangement served Tycon's purposes well.
It prevented Natalya from easily reaching Starfury's controls.
--and, obviously, he was the one to pilot the ancient war weapon known as Divine Armor Starfury.
It wasn't as difficult as Tyrion propaganda implied it to be.
"So... what you're telling me," Natalya said, before taking a breath... "is that the Wyrmslayer Alliance has to face the Dragon God without the help of our Realm's Heroes?"
"Yes," Tycon answered. "And no amount of physical violence committed to my person is going to change that."
