shredded, has an 8 pack [Luckily Nyx doesn't really care if he has privacy or not for this kind of thing. He's already getting his shirt off, tossing it aside before he starts to take off his shoes. The massive lightning scar on the right side of his body, stemming from his shoulder, seems more pronounced in the lighting. The simple linear tattoos on his arms and back look slightly faded, as if they've been there for years already. There are other scars here and there, on his chest, stomach, and back, but they're minor compared to what likely is the aftermath of an electrocution.
There's also a fresh scar, raised and raw, a perfect circle on his right ribs.
Nyx has clearly been through some shit.
The fabrics neatly stacked are turning out to be oceans of colors instead of anything resembling clothing. He has no idea what anything is or how anything works. He holds out a deep purple sheath of fabric, presumably the shift and the second layer of clothing. At least he successfully figured out the lilac pants...]
I don't know about you, but I'm starting to think we're not supposed to be able to breathe in all of this.
[Yeah, sure, it has all kinds of regulatory technology, but it's not going to make it any less comfortable having so many layers covering his face.]
because knowledge is power [Hours? Well, at least he's used to long flights for deployments and missions. Nyx is nearly fully kitted out by now: lilac pants, a deep purple shift with metallic lilac, mint, and gold embellishments, a black vest, boots, and gloves. The scarves are piled onto his lap, a variety of purples, golds, mints, and blacks.
He seems intent on learning more about the mission. But he's getting bored about three hours in.]
I'm guessing none of us have cards to play with, right?
a little party never killed nobody [The last time he attended a party so fancy there were royals and those associated with royalty at the top of the Citadel. It's where he formally met Lunafreya, caught glimpses of the Emperor and the King speaking on tight terms.
He'd been a bodyguard and a watch dog then. It's only natural he falls into that role once again. He makes only a slight show of his knives being put on display. It would be easier for him to blend in among the soldiers, the guards, the more common types than the royally-inclined.
It's not beyond him to pick off some food and drink, but he still keeps a watchful eye everywhere. Need backup, perhaps a cohort? Get his attention, and he'll find his way to you. Otherwise...]
(Looks like we've made an impression on the locals.)
[Yes, he's caught a few staring at him and the others down.]
nyx ulric
[Luckily Nyx doesn't really care if he has privacy or not for this kind of thing. He's already getting his shirt off, tossing it aside before he starts to take off his shoes. The massive lightning scar on the right side of his body, stemming from his shoulder, seems more pronounced in the lighting. The simple linear tattoos on his arms and back look slightly faded, as if they've been there for years already. There are other scars here and there, on his chest, stomach, and back, but they're minor compared to what likely is the aftermath of an electrocution.
There's also a fresh scar, raised and raw, a perfect circle on his right ribs.
Nyx has clearly been through some shit.
The fabrics neatly stacked are turning out to be oceans of colors instead of anything resembling clothing. He has no idea what anything is or how anything works. He holds out a deep purple sheath of fabric, presumably the shift and the second layer of clothing. At least he successfully figured out the lilac pants...]
I don't know about you, but I'm starting to think we're not supposed to be able to breathe in all of this.
[Yeah, sure, it has all kinds of regulatory technology, but it's not going to make it any less comfortable having so many layers covering his face.]
because knowledge is power
[Hours? Well, at least he's used to long flights for deployments and missions. Nyx is nearly fully kitted out by now: lilac pants, a deep purple shift with metallic lilac, mint, and gold embellishments, a black vest, boots, and gloves. The scarves are piled onto his lap, a variety of purples, golds, mints, and blacks.
He seems intent on learning more about the mission. But he's getting bored about three hours in.]
I'm guessing none of us have cards to play with, right?
a little party never killed nobody
[The last time he attended a party so fancy there were royals and those associated with royalty at the top of the Citadel. It's where he formally met Lunafreya, caught glimpses of the Emperor and the King speaking on tight terms.
He'd been a bodyguard and a watch dog then. It's only natural he falls into that role once again. He makes only a slight show of his knives being put on display. It would be easier for him to blend in among the soldiers, the guards, the more common types than the royally-inclined.
It's not beyond him to pick off some food and drink, but he still keeps a watchful eye everywhere. Need backup, perhaps a cohort? Get his attention, and he'll find his way to you. Otherwise...]
( Looks like we've made an impression on the locals. )
[Yes, he's caught a few staring at him and the others down.]
( Too bad they can't see my pretty face. )
last call
[your standard wildcard]