[ Decked out in black, denim clinging tight to his thighs and loose around his shoulders, Yuri orders a beer at the bar, almost like it's muscle memory. The bandana is loose around his throat, over a bare chest, his linen shirt open to his navel. The bartender pours him a tall pint and the flavor washes over his tongue like fresh water after a long, hot day. It feels like the days here are dragging on forever, and he isn't quite sure why, or what he should be doing, but he's antsy just sitting around.
At least the bar is lively. People dance and talk and drink, and he settles into the noise, letting it wash over him. After a long moment, the drink seems to ply his tongue, and he glances at you, sitting next to him, a smile flickering on his lips ]
What d'you think's beyond the desert?
2: Sand trap
[ As soon as the door snaps shut behind him, Yuri has a bad feeling. This room isn't where he meant to go: he wanted to go drown himself in the shower; the cold water feels amazing, and he can't get enough of it.
This isn't a bathroom at all. There's no shower here, no water here, and he meets eyes with you, standing across the small room from him, and his hand goes to something on his wrist--something that isn't there. Fuck. He needs to get a sword, or an axe, or something. At least he's still decent at hand-to-hand. ]
Alright, funny joke. Where are we?
3: Memories of the living
[ The graveyard feels oddly peaceful. It's hot and dry, like the rest of Wellstone, but it feels calm here. Surrounded by people who tread this ground before, who lived in these buildings, who maybe even built them. He doesn't quite notice that he's lost until he very much is, walking slowly between the headstones.
The feeling of being watched tips him off first. Goosebumps shiver up his spine and he twitches, even if he doesn't show it, and looks slowly around for the culprit. His eyes land on you, and he relaxes a little. Knowing the enemy is easier than not.
He gives you a little nod, intent to keep walking on his own, when he turns back toward where he came from and... nothing. Just more stones, more crosses, more graves. No path, no exit. Strange. He hooks a hand on his hip ]
Exit's that way, right?
[ He points back the way he came, which might not be where you came from. ]
yuri lowell | tales of vesperia
[ Decked out in black, denim clinging tight to his thighs and loose around his shoulders, Yuri orders a beer at the bar, almost like it's muscle memory. The bandana is loose around his throat, over a bare chest, his linen shirt open to his navel. The bartender pours him a tall pint and the flavor washes over his tongue like fresh water after a long, hot day. It feels like the days here are dragging on forever, and he isn't quite sure why, or what he should be doing, but he's antsy just sitting around.
At least the bar is lively. People dance and talk and drink, and he settles into the noise, letting it wash over him. After a long moment, the drink seems to ply his tongue, and he glances at you, sitting next to him, a smile flickering on his lips ]
What d'you think's beyond the desert?
2: Sand trap
[ As soon as the door snaps shut behind him, Yuri has a bad feeling. This room isn't where he meant to go: he wanted to go drown himself in the shower; the cold water feels amazing, and he can't get enough of it.
This isn't a bathroom at all. There's no shower here, no water here, and he meets eyes with you, standing across the small room from him, and his hand goes to something on his wrist--something that isn't there. Fuck. He needs to get a sword, or an axe, or something. At least he's still decent at hand-to-hand. ]
Alright, funny joke. Where are we?
3: Memories of the living
[ The graveyard feels oddly peaceful. It's hot and dry, like the rest of Wellstone, but it feels calm here. Surrounded by people who tread this ground before, who lived in these buildings, who maybe even built them. He doesn't quite notice that he's lost until he very much is, walking slowly between the headstones.
The feeling of being watched tips him off first. Goosebumps shiver up his spine and he twitches, even if he doesn't show it, and looks slowly around for the culprit. His eyes land on you, and he relaxes a little. Knowing the enemy is easier than not.
He gives you a little nod, intent to keep walking on his own, when he turns back toward where he came from and... nothing. Just more stones, more crosses, more graves. No path, no exit. Strange. He hooks a hand on his hip ]
Exit's that way, right?
[ He points back the way he came, which might not be where you came from. ]