▶ WHO: Adelis and you! ▶ WHAT: February Catch-all ▶ WHEN: Until March ▶ WHERE: All over ▶ WARNINGS: Adelis' no good very bad vampirism Canon Update, NSFW (of various flavors), TBA
[ He does not know what he's expecting, really, at that soft whistle- but despite the sight itself, Adelis doesn't tense up completely. The slightest, yes, as reflex when faced with sudden movements, but he doesn't feel the need to be as on-guard with Kaspar as he is with some. Perhaps it's the comradery, although he would argue that would make the suspicion worse in most circumstances.
His gaze is locked solidly on the dagger as it glides into the other's palm, coming to rest on the table and shining faintly under the kitchen lights. The smell of blood is...strong, he finds, and it's fortunate that blood is not his food of choice.
The introduction doesn't go ignored, but he wouldn't be the first to name his weapons- it's just not a common thing in the Syndicate. Adelis stares above the rim of his cup for a moment, acknowledges the nod, before he sets it down and finally reaches forward to pick it up. While it's with one hand, he handles it with an expert finesse that suggests years of practice, turning it over this way and that and sliding his gaze over the sharp edge, the glint of the handle. ]
They are. [ A light hum in agreement, idly running the barest skim of his fingers over the blade. ] More convenient to carry. Easy to pick up, difficult to master.
[ Anybody can stab an enemy, after all, but it takes finesse to angle it in the spots where it hurts, where it can best incapacitate or cripple. Finding where your enemy bleeds the most is half the lesson, not to mention learning to use them both up close and far away is more difficult then most think. ]
I carried many on my person, once. They have all been due replaced, however.
[ Kaspar doesn't say how many he carries, but any nose keen enough can smell the sheathes and blades. They'll only find two. Identical twins, hidden by design, Kaspar has never been shy about their existence beneath his shirt or in one leather boot. And he always had them, whether he carried his pistol too or not.
His eyes follow the movement of the blade. It's the first time he's ever let someone mess with one of his own so openly. A whim, in the ease of his good mood. He shifts subtly at the skim of fingers, pulling his sensory awareness of her back further. He sips at his tea as his gaze drifts the room instead. ]
... often underestimated.
[ He adds, holding his cup with two hands because he has nothing better to occupy them. ]
[ Indeed. His cursory examination done, he lightly sets the dagger back on the table, handle facing Kaspar, although he can still appreciate the design- still more decorative then anything he'd use, on account of his frugal ways, but fairly nice to look at. And nicely weighted, as well, so they weren't just for show.
His hand wraps leisurely around the handle of his cup again, gaze flickering back to the other man. ]
Indeed. Most don't think much of something so inconspicuous.
[ Most would know to fear any blade, really, but people will surely give their attention to the blades and the bows first. A dagger is so small and fragile, not what they'd to expect to be the thing to end them when they blink.
The question has him tilting his head somewhat, before he hums. ]
I don't oft tend to brag, but I'd say it's fairly good. One doesn't practice for years for nothing, and my teacher was fairly...relentless.
WELCOME HOME
His gaze is locked solidly on the dagger as it glides into the other's palm, coming to rest on the table and shining faintly under the kitchen lights. The smell of blood is...strong, he finds, and it's fortunate that blood is not his food of choice.
The introduction doesn't go ignored, but he wouldn't be the first to name his weapons- it's just not a common thing in the Syndicate. Adelis stares above the rim of his cup for a moment, acknowledges the nod, before he sets it down and finally reaches forward to pick it up. While it's with one hand, he handles it with an expert finesse that suggests years of practice, turning it over this way and that and sliding his gaze over the sharp edge, the glint of the handle. ]
They are. [ A light hum in agreement, idly running the barest skim of his fingers over the blade. ] More convenient to carry. Easy to pick up, difficult to master.
[ Anybody can stab an enemy, after all, but it takes finesse to angle it in the spots where it hurts, where it can best incapacitate or cripple. Finding where your enemy bleeds the most is half the lesson, not to mention learning to use them both up close and far away is more difficult then most think. ]
I carried many on my person, once. They have all been due replaced, however.
no subject
His eyes follow the movement of the blade. It's the first time he's ever let someone mess with one of his own so openly. A whim, in the ease of his good mood. He shifts subtly at the skim of fingers, pulling his sensory awareness of her back further. He sips at his tea as his gaze drifts the room instead. ]
... often underestimated.
[ He adds, holding his cup with two hands because he has nothing better to occupy them. ]
How is your aim?
no subject
His hand wraps leisurely around the handle of his cup again, gaze flickering back to the other man. ]
Indeed. Most don't think much of something so inconspicuous.
[ Most would know to fear any blade, really, but people will surely give their attention to the blades and the bows first. A dagger is so small and fragile, not what they'd to expect to be the thing to end them when they blink.
The question has him tilting his head somewhat, before he hums. ]
I don't oft tend to brag, but I'd say it's fairly good. One doesn't practice for years for nothing, and my teacher was fairly...relentless.