the sun was spilling kerosene

Aemon de le Poer · 01-18-2012, 09:24 PM

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hope this good for you bro :B

Whether or not it was his duty specifically, Aemon de le Poer occasionally found himself taking up the third shift of watch duty, prowling along the borders in the darkest hours of the night. Often, this was to clear his head in hopes of being able to get to sleep later. Some restless nights he lay awake in silent awareness, every sound keeping him from falling easily into slumber. But when he walked, his head was clear, and all of those sounds were just things to pay attention to. They could be anything; most often, they were nothing, but Aemon always needed to be sure.

Tonight was one of those nights. Aemon had lay awake for hours, tossing and turning on the small, lumpy mattress he had pieced together. He considered searching out Ithiel to bother him, but as he rolled over to sit up with a sigh, he decided against it. His brother was probably sleeping better than he was. Instead, Aemon threw on his dark blue tunic and adjusted the stretchy waistband of his black wool pants. In the middle of the night in January, it was not particularly warm. Four feet didn't interest him, so Aemon grabbed for his spear, pocketed a folding knife, and headed out the small entrance to his modest cave. It wouldn't take long to reach the borders, and he didn't mind the walk; after all, he had hours.

The trip was familiar now, and it wasn't long before he spied the D'Neville Mansion through the line of dark trees, the moonlight drifting languidly between it's shattered windows. He recognized something else, too, though: a noise. Thankful for his coyote genes, Aemon's ears turned ahead, alert and curious. The silvery de le Poer followed the sound around the Mansion until he spied the fiery woman he recognized from the clan's last meeting. In her hand was a sword, and as he stepped forward, he could tell that it was a quality blade. Crimson orbs soaked in all of her movements as she practiced, and he almost didn't want to interrupt. Admiringly, black lips turned up in a brief smile and he raised a hand to her, clearing his throat so as not to surprise the certainly deadly Triarii. "Triarii," he called, nodding his head to her, "good morning. Or is it evening for you, too?" he asked with a grin and a tilt of his head, before glancing up at the stars still twinkling above. Unsure of how she would react to such small talk, he turned his attention to her weapon. "Nice blade you've got there." Intrigued, he peered at it, wondering where she'd gotten it, what it was made of. If he could find a better weapon for himself, he would gladly upgrade. He loved his spear, but he could already tell that he would need to replace it's handle in due time; durability and strength was more appealing than any warm fuzzy feeling he might get from making it himself.

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