[There's always something a little personal to it, when someone hands over a weapon to be looked at- it's a kind of extension of who they are. It says something about how its wielder lives, what they value, how they spend their time. Maybe that sounds romantic, and maybe he's projecting- but it feels right in his head.
Noctis leans in, elbows resting on the table and brows drawn together.]
They're distractions. [An arrow had been like a bullet to his mind- fling projectile into target, make target stop moving. But this is something else entirely.] Or maybe- you use them to get in and out of places?
no subject
Noctis leans in, elbows resting on the table and brows drawn together.]
They're distractions. [An arrow had been like a bullet to his mind- fling projectile into target, make target stop moving. But this is something else entirely.] Or maybe- you use them to get in and out of places?