"My two natures had memory in common."
1st of Saun, 716 Arc
- "How does it fit?"
A lean figure rotated in the floor length mirror that was propped against the wall of shop, admiring himself. Dressed in dark leather, the black sheen reflected in the sunlight, and Andráska shifted his pose. The buckles and stitching of his armor were straight and tight, not a single one out of place. And while the make was simple, not personalized or embellished, the leather was supple and made him look stronger. His chest and shoulders were broader, his arms thicker. His reflection grinned back at him, the darkness of his eyes appearing deeper. He was... excited. "A good fit," Andráska complimented, patting the old armour smith on the arm with a goodnatured pat, "You know my body better than I do." He laughed.
The smith gave a snort, "Just measurements, m'lord. You won't like it so much in the Saun heat, I'm sure," a small smile crept under the grey mustache, "It does fit ya though." A nod, and he retrieved a long cloth and held it out to the youth, "Welcome to the knighthood."
Green eyes lowered to the gift and Andráska stared in surprise at the cape being offered. It was long, and the fabric shifted easily. Its color... was a pale pink, like the petals of a rose. He sighed. This wasn't intimidating at all! He said nothing as the smith moved to attached it to his shoulders and when the old man pulled away, the cape was in full affect. In the mirror was a tall and dashing rogue... or a rogue in knight's clothing. His figure was imposing - a dark symbol of justice and power. Amusing, considering how many times the Venora could remember disturbing the peace with intoxicated shouts and laughter. His dark features and stubble gave him a wild appearance, while the pink.. the pink added something softer.
Not the best effect when the threat of violence was at your doorstep, but... meh. Andás was still staring at himself when his companion returned to his side with a sword and scabbard. The sword was a hand and a half and he raised his eyebrows at the dark metal. The steel was new, untested. Andáska barely knew anything about the weapon, but he attached the belt to his waist, too eager. His first patrol of the city would be starting soon, and he flexed a gloved hand, and turned towards the door.
Before he left, however, he grabbed the crossbow that sat, bolt ready and safety on, from the chair. A sword was nice, but he was friendlier with his arrows. Giving a wave to the Iron Hand's smith, András dipped out of door. He was a man of the law now and his shift started now. It was time to act like it. His grin didn't start fading until he had reached the end of the street and the humidity began to slowly draw the life from him.
Somewhere, thunder cracked softly.