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Sammael arched a brow over his left eye to Amentia’s comment regarding devouring something akin to earth flesh. When she giggled, and gave a wink, his brow descended. He matched her with a smile, and happily accepted the offer of her name. 

“Hopefully the coffee can quench some of that earthy blood-lust.”

The second woman, the one with blond hair, was not as forthcoming with an introduction as Amentia. Sammael took that fact in stride, and made no fuss over it. People were who they were, and SOLDIERS especially could be a strange and distrusting breed. This fact was only echoed when both women stated that they had little knowledge of anyone at the encampment, least of all each other. 

“If rumors were coins, we’d all be rich,” Sammael added for his part. 

The moment between the three lasted scarcely the breadth of a second before a chill passed across Sammael’s back. This sensation was indeed bizarre, as the entirety of his body was already wrapped in a robe of frigid cold. 

[color=00a651][i]”Callous. Darkness. Rage.”[/i][/color]

Those descriptors came to Sammael’s consciousness as more intonations of feeling than true words. They bubbled into the fore of his mind like soft bubbles rising from the depths of calm waters. It was his Aeon. It was Ither, speaking to him in his own disconnected, yet deeply personal way. 

[color=00a651][i]”Control.”[/i][/color]

Sammael didn’t need to turn to know for whom Ither pronounced. She had been here from the moment he had arrived at the encampment, and the cool, dark, foreboding aloofness rolled off of Carmen like tendrils of ashen smoke. Sammael had seen and felt her presence throughout the camp, and his usual pleasant inclination to strike up a conversation had left him whenever it came to the commander.  

His face remained stoic as Ither prodded him. Taking the cup back absentmindedly from the blond, he gave her a quick smile in response to her thanks. He was still distracted in his thoughts as a man, this one a commander, took up the offer of coffee. 

Drawn out of himself as the man took a cup from him, Sammael gave a look of knowing as the commander downed the steaming liquid like it was the elixir of life itself. 

“You and me both, Commander. You and me both.”

[color=7ea7d8][b][center]*  *  *  *  *[/center][/b][/color]
Inside the tent, Sammael had taken a seat near where Corbyn Vesper had begun the process of more formal introductions. The sword that had rested at his hip was now standing between his legs, it’s hilt protruding upward so his left arm rested atop it. In his other hand, a cup of coffee was clutched. Samm took several sips as the first of the group began to speak, and voice their thoughts on Carmen’s appraisal of the mission to come.

Setting down his coffee on the table, Samm stood up and extended a hand towards Corbyn. 

“I didn’t get a chance to really introduce myself outside. My name’s Sammael König, First Class. I generally specialize in fast, close support, subterfuge, and handling coffee grounds.”

Samm added a self-effacing grin to the introduction. His voice was intended for Corbyn, but was certainly loud enough for anyone who was paying attention to hear.