There was a rare moment of peace today. One that was uninterrupted by meetings, shouting elders and patriarchs and the like. During those rare moments, the Demon King would retreat to his special pavilion, which had expanded since his breakthrough all those years ago. And joining him was none other than his first guardian, who was also in desperate need of some peace and quiet.
The two men sat on the wooden bench facing each other, a cup of strong liquor in hand. Jaha had donned his First Guardian robes and was now here as himself. He glanced at his sworn brother and friend, his heart souring over how much time had passed.
"You were eighteen, perhaps younger; time has ruined my memory," he said.
Junghwa lifted a brow. "You're starting to sound more and more like an old man these days, Jaha. Careful now."
The older man shot him a glare, though it had no fire and bite. He was feeling nostalgic or reminiscent. Maybe it was because he'd gotten older; it was hard to say.
