A War Long Ago pt: 1 [Invite]

So Theocelese vowed to aid Superia in whatever conquest she so desired, just as she helped him in his own desire to see his death avenged. She took his blade, forged some millenia ago and reinforced it that he might tear the Sun God limb from limb, to bath in this "deity's" blood. The foes of the past were taken care of, and that story in itself was what caused the location of Superia's meeting to be remodeled. Most, if not all furnishings were replaced, as was the color schemes. It now resembled something more ethnic, a restaurant fit to sit in one of the many Greek Towns located far across the ocean, and in the territories of the United States.



It was a rare treat to not have to be the one to man the stoves and prepare fine dishes as was laid out for them, though he would have preferred the girl ask to use his kitchen. The punishment for the crime of doing such a thing was that he would take no part in the cleanup, and this was quickly expressed the moment he finished the exceedingly long ritual of readying himself for a journey, a quest, as it were. Even after taking proper care of the brown locks breaching past his shoulders, bathing himself in scented oils and igniting enough incense at the altars in his room to thicken the air in a gray haze. To Athena, he prayed for wisdom, to Ares, he prayed for the might to see those he was to escort through this endeavor safely, and to Nemesis, he prayed one last time to guide his hands to anyone foolish and cowardly enough to target anyone in his party in a manner most lacking honour. These were the only beings he worshiped, even if his own power could contest their own now, they were still beings he respected.



After dressing in a royal blue tunic, trimmed in gold embroidery at the edges of ever seam and with a roaring lion decorating the backside, the coverings from the waist-down were less elegant. These were the pants Las Noches held in stock in the hundreds of thousands, only dyed black to taint the white fabric of Aizen's loyalist scum. Ancient-style sandals were worn on his feet, completing the look only seen in the pages of history books or televised specials on ancient societies. Golden bracelets adorned in gems of red, black and blue covered both arms, and just from mere looks alone, Theocelese looked more like he was dressed to be put on a funeral pyre than he was to go for a casual stroll in...wherever Superia chose to take them



As for the meal, Theocelese helped himself to a great extent. Better to build up his energy now, rather than shy away from something professionally made so others could partake. As for Superia's choice of drinks, such were things he chose not to bring to his lips. Wine of his own creation took that place, and he was not quite prepared to share. He said nothing, merely listened. Theocelese knew his lot in this group. If asked, he could go to his forge and create basic tools with a modicum of power to them, but his knowledge for such a talent was not required here. No, he was to be the one with his shield and sword at the ready, waiting for whatever threat crawled its way from the shadows. Any hostile force would be met head on, and taken out without remorse or mercy. To fill this slot, there was none better suited for the task.



Theocelese raised his copper cup, careful to not spill the red liquid inside as the rim came to touch his lower lip, and he drank rather than sipped. His golden eyes moved from the joined crew to his now emptied plate. It was time for fifths.