[There’s a teenager!
He’s wet, in something of a ‘I’m going to ignore how much of a drowned rat I appear’ way. One might assume that he fell into the fountain at some point, but equally, the all-encompassing wetness may have something to do with the fact that he was just in England, aka the land of copious amounts of tea-and-rain. His expression,
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This isn't exactly Southern manners and calling card land.
[Her accent is very American Southern and Alabama.]
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Also curses, people from every world, place and time and deities but no football and how wrong is that?
Anyway, I'm Lucy.
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I don't play football, so I shan't complain too much.
William Herondale.
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[Even with his shirt on, it's easy to see the Marks that spider up his arms since he has his device leaning on something.]
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[His gaze shifts to study Jace's Marks for a moment -- pointedly so -- before shooting him a fairly obnoxious smile.]
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[Noting that look before leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. He has that obnoxious smile look mastered too.]
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[Yes that is a hint of a Welsh accent that he hasn't obliterated yet]
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I've been told that most have an unwanted swim in the fountain, so I feel fortunate enough to have missed out on that. Perhaps it likes me.
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[The slight hint of Welsh in William's accent makes Myrnin nostalgic as well which is the reason for the title he gives.]
Lord Myrnin of Conroy.
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[...] William Herondale.
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Then if I happen to grow or to shrink, I'll know who to blame.
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