un: specs

[promittere]

I'm sure this request is no more odd than any other that's graced the network so far, but I'm in want of a sparring partner or two. If we're to end up in a Fissure more dangerous than the last, I would want to be able to stand on my own and it's easier to train alongside your comrades.

If anyone is interested, feel free to approach me at any time.

If anyone is also interested in learning how to cook without burning the kitchen down or ruining it, feel free to approach me as well. The smell of burning...whatever it may be lingers, and it's no trouble to cook for others if need be or lend some guidance.

Comments

[giltfoil]

[Ravus inspects the book with a sneer, but his expression sets into his usual professional scowl as his gaze travels from book to reader. In contrast to Izunia, his posture is stiff and formal.]

Well?

[founderinglight]

[Judge all you like, he's having fun.

In contrast to the Standard Ravus formality, Izunia very casually flicks the book closed and into the Armiger before he pulls out the rapier. It's sheathed, and has a style of grip that Ravus is more likely to recognize from a history book than any modern weapon, though the cage around the hilt is slightly modified from the standard, such that it can be used in either hand.

Izunia tosses it lightly to grip it by the sheath, below the guard, before standing and extending the hilt to Ravus.]

The only condition is that if you draw it with the intent to harm my family, you'll lose far more than an arm this time. Understand?

[Though the word is in another language - one Ravus might actually recognize, though probably not in the accent Izunia uses - the intent of the question is carried by the translation magic anyway.]

[giltfoil]

[Ravus is startled by the Old Tenebraean, though perhaps he shouldn't be; in the Founder King's day no doubt it was as commonplace as modern Lucian is to Ravus.

It takes him a moment to assemble the words of a language he has had no cause to use in years, but when he does he reaches out and takes the hilt in his human right hand.]

I accept your terms.

[founderinglight]

[Trust Ravus to think it's out of some formality - ]

Your accent's awful, bloom of night.

[The emphasis on the translation of the name is more than a bit different than Ravus would have gotten from his tutors.]

Though I admit I'm surprised you speak it at all; Lucis has let it fall into the exclusive domain of scholars.

[And here's the rest of the sword's weight pushed lightly at Ravus before he lets go.]