Post by Valentine Morgenstern on May 27, 2013 9:11:43 GMT -7
Although he led an active lifestyle, there were times when Valentine simply couldn’t sleep no matter what he did. He’d made his rounds again and then headed right for the weapons room and picked a couple of long swords that he rarely used and a couple of shorter daggers and odd weapons here and there, eyeing them critically; no, this wouldn’t do, they weren’t in prime condition like they were supposed to be. Time to rectify this.
Casting a look out of the French windows, he noted that it was a peaceful night. The moon itself was unable to be discerned by simply looking at the sky but with a couple of simple calculations, it was possible to determine where exactly it was hanging, shrouded by a veil of mist. It was darker but to him, it was almost as bright as day – courtesy of the night-vision rune he always made sure was marked on his body. There was nothing more frustrating than losing eyesight when it got dark all of a sudden during a fight. Valentine lived by the principle of always being prepared – no matter what.
It was why he had bothered to throw on a t-shirt and the first pair of pants he’d managed to find – those happened to be jeans – and clasped on the leather belt with his stele and most treasured weapons. Gathering the blades in under one arm, he grabbed a cleaning kit from the shelf by the door and made his way out noiselessly, sitting on the porch and lighting an oil lantern to add to the light. He could see that it was drizzling very lightly, tiny, cold raindrops bringing the slightest of stings onto his arm. Good thing the porch was sheltered; otherwise his choice of locations really wouldn’t have been the best.
Settling down on the porch stairs, Valentine started on his task, pulling over a long sword and observing the dull gleam of metal in the lamplight before starting to clean it meticulously and thoroughly.
Speech color; #A91314