[identity profile] lordwythevale.livejournal.com
[Lucas is in the lobby, pacing back and forth with the course catalog in one hand and a sheet of paper covered in faintly Arabic-looking handwriting and random English letters in the other. He's frowning alternately at each of the items, and occasionally muttering badly accented English words under his breath and waiting for his translator to respond in a musical foreign tongue.]

...Weapons. [It responds, and he sticks the sheet of paper in his mouth for a moment to scribble on the course catalog with the stub of a pencil.] Specialist.

[Nothing; he frowns more deeply and repeats the word with several different emphases until the translator responds. He mutters something under his breath in the same musical language.]

Damn it to the deepest hell. [...says the device.] Fighters. What a waste of time.

[A thick pencil line goes through that entire paragraph, and he turns his attention to the next, consulting the piece of paper once more.]

Para....

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Witches Reign

May 2014

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