rising to the occasion

"Oh, Aegaeon, you know you're always welcome."

Somehow he doubts that. He doesn't know why, but he does. How could he possibly be welcome among children? The only child by whom he'd ever been graciously treated was the Lord Hugo, and of course His Majesty is gracious to absolutely everyone.

(Is Aegaeon not also just so gracious? Is he not made in the mold of Ardainian imperial royalty, for centuries, no different than from his very first but subtly?)

Aegaeon simply cannot imagine his bulky, blundering self being well received by a boisterous orphanage full of unsocialized infants.

(It's not that he traditionally conceives of himself as awkward. Various people have convinced him of that fact as of late, however. And he's also found himself in more and more mixed company, this month.)

He cannot imagine, certainly, that the children will clamor all over him for his great and unnatural strength, his copious quantity of handles, his uncharacteristically gamely tendency to expound upon any topic brought to his attention, in any depth no matter how age-inappropriate.

Lora knows this, somehow, though. Lora knows that Aegaeon has within him, well, a veritable wellspring of versatility and tensile strength. It matters not if his opponent, such as it may be, is a sludgeonly monster, an upstart Ardainian or Coeian soldier, or a child who means him disrespect rather than harm.

For Aegaeon is so charming, she knows, and Aegaeon will perform as he always does. If he's nervous, well...that's his problem.