Little Anvil was not so little anymore, having just turned seven. He had somehow grew into something that resembled an actual person now, albeit a mini version, and one could already recognize his father's features in his earnest, serious face.
Too serious, even. Jest had often wondered what kind of kids Warden would raise — with how serious and prone to giving lectures about chivalry the man was, his poor children were bound to grow up with a severe deficiency of fun in their lives.
It was already showing…
Perhaps that was why Anvil liked to hang out with Immortal Flame's daughter so much.
At the moment, though, he was laying on the ground, breathing heavily and staring at the sky with bleak eyes.
Jest coughed.
"That, uh… maybe we should end things here today."
