- Posting Speed
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Genres
- I'm up for any sort of genre - just send me a PM with thoughts and we can figure something out!
Pavlos sits down and pops open the cork to his jug of wine. Spilling some of the fine red liquid into a goblet, he hands one to her and gives one to himself. As always, he thanks her for the fruit and promises not to let it go to waste. "A toast then, thanking the gods for having Aeolus return safely." chuckling, he too settles his gaze upon the window. "And it seems he has brought the wind here too!" shaking his head, Pavlos almost finds it unbelievable that his brother returned from that war. Their family was lucky to have two boys, now men, step on as well as of the battlefield. The same small pang of numbness settles below his crooked knee and he starts to rub it. Such intense movements won't hurt him but it freaks the poor man out when he starts to lose feeling completely. Then it's like he is walking with only one leg.
Glancing down, he taps his calf with the butt his cane. "Oh I'm fine, just fine. Getting along as well as I can with this piece of work for my master in town." shrugging, he doesn't go into much detail but starts to give her the main idea. He is a scribe for a wealthy greek councilman, required to go to meetings or hearings and take down as many notes as he can for later reference. Seconds turn into minutes that unfold to nearly half an hour. Speaking of Athens, Pavlos soon grows tired of mainly hearing his own voice. Ten minutes into their conversation, he starts asking more questions of her and her family. Simple, yet caring.
Sooner or later, the conversation starts to gain momentum for Pavlos is always a cheery man with a lot to say. It's because of careful observation, his family figures. Starting to talk about their latest winter and how he has never seen so much snow, Pavlos hardly notices the sounds of leather sandals on the tiled floor. Thinking it's just another servant, Pavlos holds up his cup and expects more wine to be poured generously into it. Instead, a voice rings from behind him. Fierce and low yet not as demanding as the shape his form has taken.
Aeolus, never really having muscle, got his fair share from working the ropes to those Athenian ships. Either rowing every single day for hours and hours on end did the trick or the constant swordplay. Proving himself a better sailor than swordsman, Aeolus soon found himself neatly bronzed from days and days on the water. A new accessory of his is the xiphos, worn well at his hip. Out of years and years of training, his hand rests on the hilt, causing a trickle of comfort up his spine. The man with the gray-blue eyes beams, remembering Corinna by voice as well as her features from a conversation shared last night between his father and brother.
"I hope you weren't expecting me to fill that glass for you, Pavlos. The jug is right there, just help yourself like the industrious man I know you for." Turning his eyes to Corinna, he can't help but smile and walk over, offering his hand for hers. "It's been so long. Might I say you have grown into your form well." swallowing, he liked those words when they were in the safety of his mind. Now that he has said them aloud, they seem stupid, utterly nonsensical. "I assure you I mean no disrespect with those words," grinning, he surely has hardened up for he smiles but always seems to be thinking about something else. There is something, whether a question or comment, on his mind that no one will ever know. Moving to the stove, he glances in to see the soft orange embers twinkle. With a single long blow, the logs ignite again, warming up the room from the chilly wind.
Glancing down, he taps his calf with the butt his cane. "Oh I'm fine, just fine. Getting along as well as I can with this piece of work for my master in town." shrugging, he doesn't go into much detail but starts to give her the main idea. He is a scribe for a wealthy greek councilman, required to go to meetings or hearings and take down as many notes as he can for later reference. Seconds turn into minutes that unfold to nearly half an hour. Speaking of Athens, Pavlos soon grows tired of mainly hearing his own voice. Ten minutes into their conversation, he starts asking more questions of her and her family. Simple, yet caring.
Sooner or later, the conversation starts to gain momentum for Pavlos is always a cheery man with a lot to say. It's because of careful observation, his family figures. Starting to talk about their latest winter and how he has never seen so much snow, Pavlos hardly notices the sounds of leather sandals on the tiled floor. Thinking it's just another servant, Pavlos holds up his cup and expects more wine to be poured generously into it. Instead, a voice rings from behind him. Fierce and low yet not as demanding as the shape his form has taken.
Aeolus, never really having muscle, got his fair share from working the ropes to those Athenian ships. Either rowing every single day for hours and hours on end did the trick or the constant swordplay. Proving himself a better sailor than swordsman, Aeolus soon found himself neatly bronzed from days and days on the water. A new accessory of his is the xiphos, worn well at his hip. Out of years and years of training, his hand rests on the hilt, causing a trickle of comfort up his spine. The man with the gray-blue eyes beams, remembering Corinna by voice as well as her features from a conversation shared last night between his father and brother.
"I hope you weren't expecting me to fill that glass for you, Pavlos. The jug is right there, just help yourself like the industrious man I know you for." Turning his eyes to Corinna, he can't help but smile and walk over, offering his hand for hers. "It's been so long. Might I say you have grown into your form well." swallowing, he liked those words when they were in the safety of his mind. Now that he has said them aloud, they seem stupid, utterly nonsensical. "I assure you I mean no disrespect with those words," grinning, he surely has hardened up for he smiles but always seems to be thinking about something else. There is something, whether a question or comment, on his mind that no one will ever know. Moving to the stove, he glances in to see the soft orange embers twinkle. With a single long blow, the logs ignite again, warming up the room from the chilly wind.