Who: Euphemia Seurle and Azalea Cerelia (+ Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion) What: Lea comes to help out with the kids. Where: Seurle residence. When: After this. Rating: PG. Status: Complete.
Azalea was barely recovered from the attack of the undead, but the siren song of children was too powerful to ignore. Spurring her aching legs into action, the machinist made her way to the Seurle household. The route was a familiar one. Prior to Kurtz and Aspel, Merton Seurle had been the only smith Lea deemed proficient enough to collaborate with on weapons. Her own dagger, though she barely knew how to use it, was of his make.
But, as she arrived at the Seurles' front door (which was in as much disrepair as Euphie had suggested), Azalea reminded herself she was not here to see father but daughter. Lea had been privy to Euphemia Seurle's growth in an intermittent fashion. The girl was a constant presence at the smithy, running about underfoot as her father set to work. Though even in a crowd, it would be difficult not to notice Euphie. Bright-eyed and bright-haired, she held herself with a dignity that was beyond her stature, both physically and societally. There was a strength in that spine of hers that could not be contained, that could not be told to back down.
That sort of strength drew Azalea like moth to flame.
And, moth to flame indeed, the machinist gingerly stepped over the threshold, letting her voice go on ahead of her: "Knock, knock!"