26th Winter 514 AV
Morning, 10th Bell
Zydrunas had retreated into cocooning himself in the blankets. He could barely think, his mind having fallen into a lull, his body whispering to answer the urges of sleep. There was a bleary look across the sleeping quarters, the slither of the gap allowing him to view the outside world and what lay beyond, before he withdrew behind the folds once more. He had just managed to get comfortable, the blood warmed and the muscles contracting and relaxing as it adjusted from the chill it had set itself into the previous day. His quarter staff - a useless tool in his hands - remained propped against the wall, the coat that was soaked by the snow left hanging over the foot of the bed. His eyes gave a flicker, shoulders rolling, as he tried to spur them into movement.
He had to move, he had been summoned by his patron at last. The man had so far been mostly a mystery, known only by name as Ser Lucien Stalinsa, a Knight in title. He rolled onto his side, wriggling his extremities as he closed in to the edge and peered out over it. He did not really want to get up, but he had no choice - duty demanded it. With a grunt and a groan he rolled out from the covers and thudded to the floor. Kicking off the blanket he fumbled for his coat, wrapping it tightly around him. With a rub of his eyes, he gave a stumble out of the quarters and begun the slow climb to his destination. The scarf was wrapped around, a shudder to the chill outside as he stepped and forced his blurred mind into life. The plumes of white came quickly as he hunkered down into his layers, stamping his feet as he hurried his steps up to his destination.
Whilst the Dhani had heard of the Antinous Training Grounds, he had yet to actual visit such a place properly - instead choosing to familiarise himself with the city as much as possible. He was to be staying here for a while after all. It was the open air that caught him first, the chilling winds ripping through him with ease. His teeth clenched, shoulders rising as he tramped on through. The sound of clattering training weapons, the shouting voice of some drill master. Of course the taunts of the more confident was noticeable, the capable squires eagerly taking each other on for that closer step to becoming full knights. But that was not the only thing he noticed - the mishmash of structures and designs. The purpose of it he could not fathom, even as he gave nervous curl in.
Eyes, the eyes were everywhere. Looking even when they appeared not to. His skin prickled, though not because of the chill. Where they judging him? Weighing him up and readying to out him for what he was? He blinked the thought away. It was safe here, he reasoned, there was no malicious trickery he had to be wary of, they would and have accepted him - for now. With a rub at his stubble, the Dhani let his golden orbs sweep once more, drinking in the chilled scene then looking forward. He forced his lips into a curl, straightening himself as if he belonged when he stepped. There was no time to allow for worry, he had to find his patron and get the detested formalities out the way. If he could find him.
Morning, 10th Bell
Zydrunas had retreated into cocooning himself in the blankets. He could barely think, his mind having fallen into a lull, his body whispering to answer the urges of sleep. There was a bleary look across the sleeping quarters, the slither of the gap allowing him to view the outside world and what lay beyond, before he withdrew behind the folds once more. He had just managed to get comfortable, the blood warmed and the muscles contracting and relaxing as it adjusted from the chill it had set itself into the previous day. His quarter staff - a useless tool in his hands - remained propped against the wall, the coat that was soaked by the snow left hanging over the foot of the bed. His eyes gave a flicker, shoulders rolling, as he tried to spur them into movement.
He had to move, he had been summoned by his patron at last. The man had so far been mostly a mystery, known only by name as Ser Lucien Stalinsa, a Knight in title. He rolled onto his side, wriggling his extremities as he closed in to the edge and peered out over it. He did not really want to get up, but he had no choice - duty demanded it. With a grunt and a groan he rolled out from the covers and thudded to the floor. Kicking off the blanket he fumbled for his coat, wrapping it tightly around him. With a rub of his eyes, he gave a stumble out of the quarters and begun the slow climb to his destination. The scarf was wrapped around, a shudder to the chill outside as he stepped and forced his blurred mind into life. The plumes of white came quickly as he hunkered down into his layers, stamping his feet as he hurried his steps up to his destination.
Whilst the Dhani had heard of the Antinous Training Grounds, he had yet to actual visit such a place properly - instead choosing to familiarise himself with the city as much as possible. He was to be staying here for a while after all. It was the open air that caught him first, the chilling winds ripping through him with ease. His teeth clenched, shoulders rising as he tramped on through. The sound of clattering training weapons, the shouting voice of some drill master. Of course the taunts of the more confident was noticeable, the capable squires eagerly taking each other on for that closer step to becoming full knights. But that was not the only thing he noticed - the mishmash of structures and designs. The purpose of it he could not fathom, even as he gave nervous curl in.
Eyes, the eyes were everywhere. Looking even when they appeared not to. His skin prickled, though not because of the chill. Where they judging him? Weighing him up and readying to out him for what he was? He blinked the thought away. It was safe here, he reasoned, there was no malicious trickery he had to be wary of, they would and have accepted him - for now. With a rub at his stubble, the Dhani let his golden orbs sweep once more, drinking in the chilled scene then looking forward. He forced his lips into a curl, straightening himself as if he belonged when he stepped. There was no time to allow for worry, he had to find his patron and get the detested formalities out the way. If he could find him.
