As always, Warja was punctual. Her father called and she was there, ghosting up on his left in a matter of minutes. Luckily for her, the young medic had been nearby. She hated the idea of being late, hated it with a passion. As long as she was able, she would arrive wherever she needed to be in a timely fashion. The same couldn't be said for some of her siblings, but it was possible that she'd sucked all the punctuality out of him in the womb.
Aiming to brush against his left shoulder, Warja said, "Hey, dad." She turned merry green eyes in his direction before drifting away to settle down nearby and await the arrival of the others. Her eyes roved the terra, eagerly searching for the giant form of her friend. The question was: was Kismet a Warja, always on time, or an Eirik, always late?
