#Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent )

[nazorneku]

♡ // For Estinien and Vincent

The more awake time was spent in contemplation, the swifter the veil of bewilderment dispersed. Upon rousing from slumber, the memories of his were bereft of familiarity and comprehension, yet eventually the events of the past reemerged, revealing faces long-forgotten. Amidst the ceaseless cacophony of whispers carried by the ghosts shuffling along the deserted streets, there was one the hunter could distinguish. A fiery woman and a skilled warrior, they met prior to catastrophic events that claimed the land completely. "She is confused and bewildered now, as she knew only her duty and followed orders of the Choir... I was once like this before." A scarcely audible voice described the red-haired female in front of him, devoid of resolve and fervor, now only guided by a sole want to locate a lost sibling, with whom they parted. How much did she remember? Was he recognized at all? In that dying world, mayhap he alone could recollect what transpired, whose mind was touched by the healing hand, granting clarity and purpose.

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●○○○ | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

In a habitual manner hands were placed across his chest, whilst the man wordlessly beheld the golden city from his vantage point. Since the moment dragons and men forged peace, the need to deploy draconian warriors diminished, save for occasional trips to quell the danger of wild beasts. Such utterly uncomfortable idleness wasn't known to common men, who eagerly celebrated the end of the war, those destined to fight would not find solace in peace. That sentiment found home within a soul of another warrior, cursed, but proud. An admiration and mutual respect soon bloomed between the two, yet there was no denial of a thread of melancholy, following her. Her status clashed with her peculiar circumstances, begetting resentment. " 'Tis a hefty burden placed upon her shoulders. And her merit and resolve will be tested." The presence of her brother was a soothing one, the knight could only hope his flame would not flicker...

Upon Shattering, the land transformed, bringing forth incomprehensible corruption, change and death. Where once was aureate glow, now stretched the pools of scarlet rot and deadly blossoms peppered its edges, as the vestiges of gold leisurely faded. There was no rest for the righteous. And the draconian anew was commanded to arise, to cull the corrupted, to cross the fog to the Lands Between, to stand before the Elden Ring. Thus his path eventually crossed with hers, stirring memories and awakening still slumbering consciousness. Her persona could scarcely be forgotten by the knight, an imprint on his soul was left ineradicable; immensely so that the madness she currently was engulfed in pained the man. "Time was not kind to you, old friend. Your sorrow, confusion and pain— my spear will end it all." The gloved hand tightened grip upon his weapon, a tarnished gaze was lifted at the female in front of him, as with deliberate and confident strides he was shortening the distance between them.

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ●●●●○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

&. what my muse thinks of yours || @scarletrotted

[nazorneku]

After opting to follow those people, the nagging sensation followed his heels - the curiosity exuded from others was almost palpable; yet considering the incident within the manor underground walls, he could scarcely blame them for being both curious and cautious. Albeit the intensity of perceived desire, her presence was utterly diverse, barely tangible, soothing; thus when she approached, Vincent did not shift own posture and remained sitting with sealed gaze. Only when the first words escaped her mouth, did the alteration of his image begat, a frown distorted the commonly aloof expression, lids disclosed a vivid crimson eyes, shrouded with both somnolence and regret. "A good man? Not sure if I share your sentiment though." In a low voice he responded, too many sins weighted down the man to never even indulge in such thought. And forgiveness? He never attempted. Never considered the possibility of another atonement than eternal confinement. Despite that he possessed no reason to deny her information requested. "I knew... a few decent people." An audible sigh slipped in between slightly parted lips, as images of bygone past flooded his mind.

For a few instants the bright gaze was sealed anew, to recollect composure, to regain the solid ground and not fall into an abyss of tormenting reminiscence. "One was the woman, working at ShinRa manor. Back then, I was stationed as a guard there." The urge to proceed that conversation was abruptly silenced by the man's determination to retain those days deeply buried within his memory, nothing else positive could be voiced. Even some of Lucrecia's actions were deemed questionable and excessive, yet in his eye she still remained an untainted person, uncorrupted by ambition and zeal. Like Hojo.

Vincent doesn't talk a lot. It's something Aerith has understand from the moment she met him. And yet... she's curious. He's a former Turk. He used to work for Shinra before she was even born. Back when her father was also still working for Shinra. Was her mother herself around ? She wishes to ask, but she's also scared to ask. Speaking the truth, hearing the truth... is sometimes scary.

"Vincent. You're a good man," she admits, letting a smirk cross her lips. Well, it probably seems very random coming from her, but Aerith always feels quite talkative late in the evening when the group stops by an Inn. "Maybe it's weird of me to ask, and you don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but... were there some nice scientists working for Shinra around your time ?"

@nazorneku ❤'d !

[nazorneku]

♡ @ vincent !

Utterly uncharacteristic for the man clad in red to engage in conversations in which the main subject was interpersonal relationships, as for three decades he barely communicated with even a single person, opting for confinement and solitude. In spite of that there would be an attempt to entertain that need, as he lowered own head, engrossed with constructing a genuine opinion.

A whist contemplation prolonged, until the raven-haired man parted lips to speak, each word conveyed undeniable gravitas. "She carries a lot of responsibilities as the last Cetra." A sigh emerged from the depths of his throat, a slight frown bent the perfect line of raven brows, as Vincent further considered her benign nature, willingness to disregard own safety and happiness for the sake of others. The man might not follow their group for an extended period of time, but his personal evaluation of every individual was exceedingly precise. "There will be always people to help, planet to save, her peace and happiness are equally important. Of which she needs to be reminded." A scarcely audible chuckle accompanied the latter words, a glimmer of concern entwined with sadness reflected in crimson pools. A rather infrequent notion for the gunman to extend own patronage, nevertheless that girl's burden was a hefty one, yet it wasn't supposed to be endured alone.

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ●●○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

&. what my muse thinks of yours || @sacredflorist

[nazorneku]

WEISS ( @endweapon ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: The situation is tense and weapons are pointed; the party looks into the muzzle of the gun the mysterious man from the coffin keeps primed at them. Only Weiss' gaze is drawn to elsewhere, metallic blues with their hazel touch rest on the lid of the coffin on the ground. The three-headed hound of hell adorning it stood out, perhaps a warning they should've heeded before disrupting this stranger's 'slumber'. In spite of the threat, Weiss steps forward with no weapon drawn, shifting a sharpened set of eyes on their armed new friend (enemy?). "You had us think they buried a man alive, so being the bleeding hearts they are, they checked up on you. That's all. You're not who we're here for. There's bigger nightmares around than the one you were having."

Forcibly awakened anew, he found self surrounded by unfamiliar people, an inspecting gaze still slightly veiled with somnolence trailed over intruders dressed casually, which indicated at apparent lack of allegiance to ShinRa; the first conclusion of outlaws or scavengers nudged itself logically and instantaneously the gloved hand pointed a gun at the others. As an ex-Turk, Vincent was proficient at interpreting other people expressions, especially displayed so vividly, and the apprehension and wariness were etched into the countenance of almost every one of them, save for one man, who opted to step forward and initiate a conversation. The mixture of thoughts and emotions was comprehensible, as a man slumbering in a coffin was not frequent to stumble upon, and the secret he harbored 'bout own identity would alienate him even further.

The gunman would disregard the attempt to coerce him to socialize, if not for just one word that tightly gripped his mind upon escaping the other man's mouth. Nightmares. For the majority the concept of immortality was beyond their grasp; to be frank, he did not revel in own state, deeming it as a curse and retribution for past sins. When the silver-haired extended a gesture of mediation, those words of consolation hit the impenetrable wall of solid indifference. "What do you know 'bout my nightmares?" Albeit curt was his response, there was no inherent enmity towards the other, but immense distaste towards self for various reasons and any empathy tended to be disregarded. ‘We all should pay for our sins.’

The uneasiness between the two was almost palpable, yet the man clad in crimson did not concern self with such triviality, as their conversation compelled to reminisce 'bout days and weeks cloaked in fog with fleeting frames of abrupt and vague memories; nevertheless, one fact remained distinct and comprehensible, spoken with a cold tone, leaking apparent disdain towards the man that once inhabited it. "This mansion was abandoned for many years, you will find no one here." To the exclusion of ghosts of the past, which haunted not the empty and dilapidated building, but the mind of the only living being that still dwelled within. Although could that man still be alive? He once died amidst those halls.

And the circumstances of his survival endangered those around, if it would come to pass for Chaos to quell his will and claim the reins, bringing forth the ultimate destruction of the very life itself. Carmine eyes narrowed at the thought and a scarcely audible exhalation escaped through slightly parted lips, the clawed hand entered the field of his vision, observed by an absorbed and distant glance, the presence of another entity within the gunman would not be disclosed to anyone and events of the past would remain within the walls of that old manor, as knowledge of that 'weapon' would bring only destruction and death, in despite of overwhelming potency the beast possessed. There was no guarantee it would aid once let off the leash...

[nazorneku]

*shoots at* "Bullet for my Valentine is what they say today, isn't it? Hahahaha!"

Another year was welcomed with an exhausted sigh from the gunman, when that particular date on the calendar approached, compelling people to scurry around on their search for the ultimate gifts. Ironically, the person in possession of similar to the holiday name was bereft of any appropriate inclination and opted to both disregard the commotion and withdraw further from the attention of the others, lest someone anew would furnish self with an idea to pester him with that nonsense as it chanced prior.

And yet, despite his valiant attempts to distance self and disappear, there was one specific individual, fixated on seeking him out, as if his back was marked by an invisible target, drawing the leader of the Tsviets in. The other's approach set Vincent in a state of alert, accustomed to Weiss' pattern of conduct after numerous months of collaboration, hence he anticipated the attack, which was accompanied by a cacophonous laughter. Almost effortlessly with trained ease the man clad in crimson dodged the bullet so audaciously fired at him, with a precise and swift motion glowed hand slid down and released Cerberus, a unique triple-barreled and triple-cylindered revolver, from the confinements of the holster. No hesitation and no reprieve was afforded to the other man, when three bullets were sent towards the other man in response to his one.

Judged asinine, the remark begat no reaction from the raven-haired, yet if the other appeared so eager to receive the bullet from Valentine later in one month, he would gladly oblige and spare the tumultuous waiting to shoot the man at that very instant.

[nazorneku]

WEISS ( @endweapon ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: “  the sooner you accept what you are,  the sooner you can embrace the strengths that come with it.  ”

The inevitability to encounter that man was accepted with utmost reluctance, as fated or to be more precise cursed to be drawn towards each other by the polar opposites of the weapons hosted inside both were, prisoners of their circumstance, which at the time anew enkindled the topic for their conversation only to further cement their differences on the subject. Vincent scarcely delighted with indulging in discussion of various experiments conducted on him, those were nightmares he wished not to disturb, as the memories evoked nothing but pain and intense sensation of misery and own helplessness, which led him to such state.

'What you are'. Not a who, but a what. A result.

Clawed hand was lifted to meet the crimson gaze, at leisure trailing over its form, as fingers continuously performed a gesture of clenching into a fist, diminishing the numbness that occasionally spread over his limbs due to prolonged inactivity. The person he once was no longer existed, brutally killed and merged with four other essences, which blurred the line between his own existence and that of the others'. If he was no longer human, then obvious it was to wonder who or what he came to be. Extensive philosophical debates 'bout one's true nature beyond doubt would arise if his 'condition' would go public, nevertheless it did not hold any significant value to the gunman. He would endure. In solitude, detachment and silence. And figure out who was he now.

A drastic opposite to the man standing in front, who embraced the power of being a weapon, relished in its advantages and seemed to seek to transcend its limits. Narrowed vivid gaze peaked from under the raven bangs, a habitually devoid of any particular emotion tone noted a conclusion. "Which means, you accepted being nothing more than Hojo's experiment." The gloved hand rested on the holster, awaiting imminent reaction. None of them managed to gain access to each other's psyche during numerous encounters, as probability to maintain civil conversation without resorting to violent confrontation remained stably low.

&. misc prompts       

[nazorneku]

Congratulations on surviving this far. Don't die until I beat you. File Attachment: TRKVV98.VR

Neither signature nor sign on who the sender was or how they got Vincent's number. Sender Unknown. For all the stoic gunman cared for this could've been meaningless spam intent on wasting the endless time he had available to live. ( Though he sure loved to point out how he never had time for this or that during a confrontation. )

Something more hid behind this ominous message and the file attached, the data-type clearly intended to be for a VR-Simulator for combat.

Now, would Chaos' host dismiss this as meaningless ( today's date a coincidence? ) and delete it or dare find out? The man behind the morbid message cared not. Twirling silver meshes in boredom in the same old WRO cell as usual, he entertained himself either way with the thought of Vincent's grimace when discovering that this was nothing else but the VR-data of his past Turk-self.

/obligatory happy vincent day

🇸‌🇺‌🇨‌🇨‌🇪‌🇸‌🇸‌🇫‌🇺‌🇱‌🇱‌🇾‌ 🇪‌🇻‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇳‌🇬‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇺‌🇱‌🇦‌🇹‌🇴‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇲‌🇪‌🇸‌🇸‌🇦‌🇬‌🇪‌🇸‌ : 🇹‌🇦‌🇸‌🇰‌ 🇫‌🇦‌🇮‌🇱‌🇪‌🇩‌ || @endweapon

Chest heaved under leather garments with deliberately deep inhalation, carmine optics narrowed with apparent suspicion, yet at the same time were veiled with unadulterated disinterest and obvious shortage in reaction towards received letter. That inconspicuous author of said message was instantaneously determined, scarcely anyone possessed such a high measure of gall to allow self mischievous conduct towards the man clad in crimson; and despite being restrained within current circumstances, that person's aim still remained unfaltering and locked on gunman's back. The gloved hand almost effortlessly closed the flip phone shut, as Vincent proceeded in the direction of the previous destination; nevertheless for a reason beyond his comprehension those words tugged at the edges of his consciousness, compelling to pull the phone out again and scrupulously inspect the message. A previously disregarded attached file was now detected, begetting a distinct frown across his customary apathetic expression, a long exhalation slipped in between slightly parted lips, when the raven-haired male altered the trajectory of own strides and entered the room equipped to simulate VR and possibly deduce the sender's intentions.

The flash of light blinded and the surroundings Vincent opened the eyes to were not recognizable, not at the swift glance at least. Once accustomed to new illumination, his vision sighted an image no longer familiar in the reflection of the glass; a pair of crimson eyes stared back, yet they were not his own. Not anymore. Short raven hair, an ironed to perfection suit, classic cut, and impossibly deep sadness was engraved into every curve of his countenance, which now was the man's own. The hand almost lifted to brush against this alien countenance, to verify the veracity of which he beheld. Astonishment did not prolong as the memory proceeded, yet his mind did not accentuate its events, another routine mission with Veld, something 'bout illegal transport - nothing exceedingly significant to warrant his attention in that direction; thus the vivid gaze trailed after the younger male, almost unblinking. An unbeknownst sensation clawed at his soul, scratched at his mind, bestowing burning and festering wounds unable to be mended. The time forever bereaved for him, the life forever unattainable for him. That suffocating realization newly clasped its claws around his throat, compelling to forcefully end the simulation. The accelerated heartbeat, still deafening, resounded within own mind, yet with sealed sight and measured exhalations he managed to stabilize emotions, the flood of which overflowed mere seconds ago. Once composed enough, the gunman with broad and determined strides walked into the opposite direction of his prior intent and now confinement cells were his destination.

The comment of the guard at the entrance was dismissed with an accustomed to being displayed indifference as Vincent strode past the man towards another, there was no attempt for civil greeting, as a hoarse tone inquired with determination to unveil Weiss' ploy. "How did you manage to obtain that data?" A faint hint of animosity slipped in between those words. The past was buried long ago and irrelevant to the current events, his affiliation to the Turks or who he was as a person no longer possessed any value, yet that person opted to dig up old corpses of people who no longer walked the land. He was never the same, he died back then at the ShinRa manor.

[nazorneku]

📜 a cryptic letter ( from vincent )

[nazorneku]

💼 a professional email ( for vincent )

[nazorneku]

TIFA ( @lockhartred ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: “whatever happens, i got your back.”

A mutual sensation of comradery, almost forgotten with the passage of time and under the weight of sins that laid heavily upon his shoulders, now surfaced due to the efforts of those particular individuals; bound by a common goal once, yet linked by something invaluable at that time. Carmine optics narrowed at the intrusive thoughts cradled at the back of his mind, a few moments of respite prior to marching towards the epicenter of conflict, an escalating menace threatening the essence of all life. The gunman could not claim that he possessed a solid plan in which way to deal with Omega, nevertheless its presence beckoned another to awake. Chaos had been stirring within, as in the absence of Protomateria there were no shackles to perpetually contain the beast.

The sound of the phone distracted from contemplation, prompting to respond, a frown emerged across his habitually composed image at sonorous voices on the other side; their concern was valued, albeit Vincent lacked the ability to proper display the sentiment. Her words however begat diverse emotion, saturated with bizarre for him notion of worry, which he carried in own speech. "You shouldn't put yourself in danger, Tifa, I'll manage on my own here." His voice dropped in harshness of its tone with the last word, crimson gaze half-lidded anew when the expression of gratitude finally slipped in between his lips. "Still— thank you." For the first time in decades the man was actually looking forward to the future, that would be laid in front of his once the current conflict would be resolved.

&. action-themed prompts         ||          accepting  

[nazorneku]

MAJIMA GORO ( @zankokukami ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: ❝ what's a man got to do for a lil' bit of fun round here ? ❞ he eyed the other turk, who quite frankly looked like he did not want to be stationed along with majima. ❝ come on, loosen up a lil' will ya ? you bore me. ❞

Notification regarding a new partner for the job emerged in the morning, nevertheless meticulous planning and instructions were not sufficient to prepare him for such a particularly vivid character. With a mere glance Vincent questioned his professionalism and capabilities, ostentatious familiarity did not improve their bond from the very first casually dropped words, begetting a condemning remark. " 'Work' rarely implies 'fun' in our sphere of expertise. If you were looking for one, then you applied to the wrong job." Carmine optics narrowed its gaze at the other male, whilst he contemplated Veld's judgement, how utterly laughable to found self opposing the decision of the superior so adamantly. Their personalities would engage in perpetual conflict and eventually sabotage the operation.

Hands rested across the chest, as the man maintained impenetrable composure that was unceasingly tested every time Majima opened mouth to talk, though another complaint addressing own boredom was vocalized. Despite apparent disinterest in woes of another, words did tug at the strings of his memories, beckoning forth recent conversation; Vincent did not possess an inclination for leisurely activities, opting to hone battle skills advantageous for work than momentary pleasures. "I have not even the slightest idea what you expect from me. Isn't performing the task should be a priority now?" With habitual disapproval in own voice, the raven-haired responded newly, their conversation threatened to transform into quarrel whereas one relished serenity and another flourished in mayhem.

[nazorneku]

Utterly uncharacteristic of him to even entertain the notion of crossing the doorstep of that particular type of establishment, as the services, which were provided within such, did not hold much of his regard. Nevertheless, if one to solve the case the raven-haired was occupied with at that moment, then one had to exercise even the most bizarre and ludicrous of approaches. Thus upon completion of working for regular hours, Vincent at leisure strolled towards one of the most popular and endorsed cabaret clubs, still contemplating and, after a rather long exhalation, stepping inside the building.

With a somewhat dismissive gesture of the hand, he indicated that he possessed no particular preference towards the hostess' appearance, nonetheless would prefer a more conversable one to further own investigation. Time spent awaiting passed unnoted, an excited tone greeted and, once a crimson gaze was lifted at the source of that voice from contemplating the menu, a dark eyebrow arched in bewilderment. 'Mayhap I should have specified the appearance.' As the visual presentation in front of him could arouse a cultural shock from many a man.

An inspecting gaze trailed over the figure of the girl, eyes narrowed upon detection of an utterly distinguishing ink, adorning shoulders, that ostentatious skimpy dress scarcely concealed. The person behind that charade was instantaneously recognized, though, despite well-known Majima's antics, that one just took the cake. Another exasperated sigh was suppressed deep within his throat, as he watched the other to take a seat beside him. "A pleasure to meet you... Goromi. You can call me Vincent." There was almost insurmountable urge to voice just one concern towards the whole circumstance, yet Vincent remained professional and opted to play along. For now. "This is my first time visiting such an establishment. I can only assume you have tips for the beginners and preferences." With a husky tone he proceeded, eloquently pointing at the menu on the table, to not allow the awkward atmosphere to linger.

starter for @nazorneku !

the first customer of the night was here for him as majima checked himself over, guised as goromi, his hostess self, he makes sure that his make-up is in check, & that his dress is covering just enough of himself before he goes out there to greet the lucky ... or unlucky customer ... what the hell ? no one could be unlucky to have got him, especially when they just requested any 'decent' hostess sees to them.

going out onto the floor, majima finds the man waiting at the table ... looks like a cop ... the clothes he wore. maybe majima was the unlucky one here if he had to entertain a cop for the night, but regardless, he walked over to the man, & greeted him excitedly.

❝ hello ~ ! i'm goromi, i'm gonna be yer hostess fer the night. ~ ❞

taking a seat next to the man, majima awaits his reply, & reaction to the turn of events ... it wasn't one of his regulars that knew after all.

[nazorneku]

VALENTINE'S DAY WITH TIFA ( @lockhartred ) AND VINCENT: She sidles up next to him, a bag of red cinnamon hearts sitting in the palm of her hand as the other digs in and grabs a handful. “Here,” she says and reaches for his hand, the bag—more like a pouch—caught between her fingers, and places the handful of red hearts in the palm of his gloved hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Vincent,” she says with a smile as she notices how the red of the candy hearts stick out with its vibrant color against the black leather of his glove.

Another day verged to its definitive conclusion, bereft of any particular exhilaration it threatened to render into mundane, humdrum existence, by virtue of which his existence would remain stagnant, undisturbed. The gunman did not oppose serenity embracing him, succumbing to the heavy weight of many years he had lived, opting for an uneventful life, unless the specific group of people would deign to intrude upon his solitude anew.

With peculiarity of the festivity Vincent faced before, confused at first due to incomprehensible similarity with own surname, yet eventually it was disregarded as the celebrated sentiment no longer dwelled within confinements of his chest. Albeit the regrets of bygone days found rest along with the man himself, he did not consider the necessity of merging with the current generation, cursed as he was with immortality, though at times he found self yearning for connection nonetheless. As if keen to his inner turmoil, she attempted another approach, involving the raven-haired male into such a frivolous event, yet he did not dismiss the gesture outright, permitting her to grasp the gloved hand to leave the treats.

Carmine optics regarded bizarre shaped confections with apparent lack of enthusiasm, the item did not possess any significance to the man, nevertheless her concern was recognized and valued. Long fingers slightly squeezed the palm with the edible gifts, contemplating, lips parted to utter words of gratitude. "There's no need, but I appreciate the gesture regardless." At that time he lacked means to reciprocate, despite that the action to compensate her effort would be taken in the nearest future.

[nazorneku]

PROMPTO ( @battleshot ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: “ go on then, what’s the coolest thing you’ve been able to do with that hand —?” pointing at the prosthetic one. “You must have some party tricks?”

Rather peculiar was to behold one of the royal retainers in the company of a glaive with what seemed to be an idle chatter than a mission of utmost importance, especially now when the future of the realm rested upon young and indecisive shoulders. The raven-haired man leaned nonchalantly against the coldness of the stone wall with a characteristic posture of his, as both hands rested across his heaving chest, and only once the other uttered a bizarre inquiry did the dark eyebrow arched with an expression of displeasure draping akin to a veil over the habitually impassive image. Instinctively the golden gauntlet was lifted, its long fingers imitated the gesture of clenching and unclenching fist, contemplating its owner was, a long sigh slipped in between slightly parted lips, as Vincent finally deigned to provide a reaction. "You do realize it's for combat only?" With a hoarse tone of his voice each word rolled from the tip of his tongue, heavy and judgmental, nonetheless he would entertain the blond with a conversation he so graciously initiated.

With another sigh, he pushed away from the wall, carmine eyes leisurely trailed its regard over the small village they resided in at that time, a safe harbor for those trying to avoid both the imperial army and daemons. Despite the dwindling number of the glaives, who suffered crushing betrayal during peace talks, their presence still remained reassuring to the folks, none could perform in the way they did. The responsibility they still had to shoulder did not unsettle him, but the fickle nature of the prince, whom the gunman did not regard with much respect, unlike his father, king Regis. That man he mourned, they all did. "People, such as I, do not attend festivities to party. And one of your status should treat own position with more seriousness as well." Slightly callous remark, a reminding one, not with malice yet of concern towards the company the other man was in; the duty once assigned could not be forsaken, it enveloped in a particular set of obligations, it weighted down as it should.

[nazorneku]

PROMPTO ( @battleshot ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: “Anyone ever said that you don’t talk very much…?”

A habitual solitary repose amidst wastes of that place, which he disregarded to visit for a prolonged amount of time, was interrupted by a cheerful tune of the familiar voice of one of the associates, more and more people insisted on remaining as the part of his measured and leisurely life; even considering recent events, the gunslinger was not swift to apply immediate alterations to own customs and merge with expanding crowd saturated with companionship and common goal.

A scarcely audible sigh found its way out of his mouth at first, as those words did not evoke any particular emotion, it merely was the way in which that man operated, it was engraved into the very bones. A habit at leisure melded into his essence over the years even prior to decades of confinement. And yet the topic of imposed detachment would never allude him; and eventually from a solid refusal to converse a decision shifted to a vague neutrality. "An idle chatter is not my specialty." In a monotonous tone Vincent responded, the man found self utterly incapable of simple socializing, merely saw no reason of purposelessly wasting time. And when commonly devoid of emotions image was distorted by a frown, the rest of the speech was vocalized. "I do hope you are here not to engage in pointless prattle."

[nazorneku]

“ ya know, jus’ because i know a thing or two ‘bout you doesn’t mean i really know you. ” with his ears twitching, the cat looked up at the man in red. “ same goes for th’rest of ‘em. they know even less than i do. maybe you oughttry bein’ a bit more friendly? might make things easier, don’t ya agree? ”

A habitual repose with lidded gaze newly was rudely interrupted by a mechanical creature, its antics were bizarre and, if Vincent comprehended that Cait's appearance was intended to evoke tender emotions, it produced the reverse effect from the former Turk. With a heavy sigh, his lips parted to utter in a low tone. "There's nothing of interest for you that I can offer." Hobbies and talents that he might possess lost its merit over the last three decades he spent in confinement, and the circumstances that compelled such development he was not willing to disclose. Frankly, he would prefer to remain as a temporary ally, rather than an irreplaceable part of their group, which would involve reliving past nightmares and letting more monsters out.

Despite evident refusal to indulge in normal bonding human experience, there was something in particular 'bout the other that managed to capture Vincent's interest. "You mentioned before a report that contained information 'bout me. What were the details?" A request or a demand? With curiosity piqued, he was even willing to bargain (or to be more precise, to correct) for more information, as he wondered what were "the official" reports.