[ The blithe schoolboy of their first meeting makes another appearance. Zephirin's gaze tracks Francel's cheerful skipping, and then the fond goodbye that Francel bids his apple for the time being, slipping it into his bag's secure hold after carrying it cradled like a precious gift. Apples must rank beside rolanberries after all.
Zephirin's steps are unhurried, keeping an even pace, but his long strides soon align him with Francel again. His eyes flick from the path to Francel's smiling face.
In slow recovery, his visits could be justified. They cannot continue indefinitely.
And yet—
Zephirin thinks of Francel's radiant joy. ]
...I remain stationed in Ishgard. Will you ready your cooking-pot?
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Zephirin's steps are unhurried, keeping an even pace, but his long strides soon align him with Francel again. His eyes flick from the path to Francel's smiling face.
In slow recovery, his visits could be justified. They cannot continue indefinitely.
And yet—
Zephirin thinks of Francel's radiant joy. ]
...I remain stationed in Ishgard. Will you ready your cooking-pot?