TIMESTAMP:
NOTES: Hunter's Bounty 1, Glade 123
NOTES: Hunter's Bounty 1, Glade 123
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Having spent a few seasons in Gel’Grandal, Hector’s comfort level in the city was significantly higher than it once was. At first, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to consider that place home, but when he’d shed the shackles of Zaichaer’s memories, the Imperium became the only home he ever knew. And being of the Inquisition, he would walk the city’s streets almost as if they belonged to him– but in a way befitting of somebody as oblivious and aloof as he was.
Vergil wasn’t adapting as well; he’d spent his entire life in Zaichaer, and he was quite a bit older than he looked. Letting go of it would’ve been difficult even if he’d moved of his own volition, but being forced out under such destructive circumstances, he’d become…somewhat of an odd hermit. And then there's the culture shock. As such, he spends nearly all of his time either at home in their apartment, in his lab, or working. Perhaps this habit was becoming unhealthy, because he’d also become reliant on Hector’s comfort with the city– Hector did nigh to all of their errands.
This was something Hector was happy to do, even if it was a crutch, and today, he was out buying a small variety of herbs the other vampyr liked to use in his Ichor. Because he wasn’t working, he wasn’t dressed like an Inquisitor; rather, he wore a loose fitting, but well made, black button-down shirt over fitted woolen pants that matched in hue. The leather shoes that stopped below his ankles were also black, if one looked, his socks were of stark contrast. They were brightly colored, as if sewn after a painting; from a distance, one likely couldn’t tell, but they had little animals on them– tortoises, not unlike the Emperor's in design. The Emperor's affection for that creature tickled Hector immensely. He was dressed with thicker fabrics than what was standard for Gelerian Glades, but...the seasons had yet to change. And lastly, he’d neglected to put on the pendant he’d been given through the Inquisition to hide his Aura; it wasn’t really that big of a deal, since most local Semblers wouldn’t recognize Vitalis at all, but it was a foolish oversight all the same.
The elf had been told that he was raised in an apothecary, one not unlike the place he went to when he bought his companion’s ingredients– but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t conjure up the memories. The funny part is that he did, with no context, remember a lot of the plants’ names and properties; the sorceress’ spell was odd in that way. All of his knowledge stuck, but the context? The story of his life? Gone. After buying what Vergil needed, he found himself lingering in the store, distracted by surroundings he recognized but couldn’t remember.
Vergil wasn’t adapting as well; he’d spent his entire life in Zaichaer, and he was quite a bit older than he looked. Letting go of it would’ve been difficult even if he’d moved of his own volition, but being forced out under such destructive circumstances, he’d become…somewhat of an odd hermit. And then there's the culture shock. As such, he spends nearly all of his time either at home in their apartment, in his lab, or working. Perhaps this habit was becoming unhealthy, because he’d also become reliant on Hector’s comfort with the city– Hector did nigh to all of their errands.
This was something Hector was happy to do, even if it was a crutch, and today, he was out buying a small variety of herbs the other vampyr liked to use in his Ichor. Because he wasn’t working, he wasn’t dressed like an Inquisitor; rather, he wore a loose fitting, but well made, black button-down shirt over fitted woolen pants that matched in hue. The leather shoes that stopped below his ankles were also black, if one looked, his socks were of stark contrast. They were brightly colored, as if sewn after a painting; from a distance, one likely couldn’t tell, but they had little animals on them– tortoises, not unlike the Emperor's in design. The Emperor's affection for that creature tickled Hector immensely. He was dressed with thicker fabrics than what was standard for Gelerian Glades, but...the seasons had yet to change. And lastly, he’d neglected to put on the pendant he’d been given through the Inquisition to hide his Aura; it wasn’t really that big of a deal, since most local Semblers wouldn’t recognize Vitalis at all, but it was a foolish oversight all the same.
The elf had been told that he was raised in an apothecary, one not unlike the place he went to when he bought his companion’s ingredients– but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t conjure up the memories. The funny part is that he did, with no context, remember a lot of the plants’ names and properties; the sorceress’ spell was odd in that way. All of his knowledge stuck, but the context? The story of his life? Gone. After buying what Vergil needed, he found himself lingering in the store, distracted by surroundings he recognized but couldn’t remember.
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Aidolon Speech
"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
