[hr][hr][center][b]Maxwell // Ochre[/b]
[color=598527][sub][b]LOCALE[/b] // The City of Thorinn, Outskirts
[b]TIME[/b] // Afternoon[/sub][/color][/center][hr][hr]
	Ochre breathed sigh as the cool afternoon breeze wafted over his form, body entirely lax under the sun's rays. The stallion that pulled his cart was no better, laying on the grasses under his hooves while it indulged in the stream's water. Neither horse nor master seemed to be moving anytime soon, despite the mental assertion Ochre made multiple times to himself that he would reach the town before sundown. He didn't really see the rush when he could enjoy the wonderful weather of the world instead.

	The armorsmith didn't really understand how it all worked, really. The synapses firing in his sense, relaying to his brain the subtle motions of the air as he lay baking on the wooden stage of his cart. He could feel the grains of wood under his legs, the leather on his back, the soothing warmth that washed over his body with each cloud that passed him by. Even as his mind knew that the world was merely virtual, the body perceived no difference from fantasy and reality. And, in all honesty, he was more inclined to listen to his instincts that his brain. Less troublesome that way, unlike trying to discern the cracks in the virtual world. 

	In his introspective mood, it took Ochre a good few seconds to realize that he was being addressed, his topaz gaze opening to the blue sky above as he discerned the voice that had called upon him. [color=orange]"Altissima. Yo,"[/color] the armormsmith replied back with a dull tone, merely tilting his head back from its place on the cart's armrest to view the enchanter upsidedown. [color=orange]"Here for the dungeon? Good seeing you."[/color]

	Despite his usually lazy nature, he couldn't help but say the enchanter's name in full, rather than taking up the moniker of "Tessa". There was something just... off, when it came to addressing the chain-wielder by such a short name. Like placing a puzzle together, forgetting the outer edges of the piece merely for a quicker assembly. While that may be the case, not needing those edges for anything in particular, Ochre hated only two things more than overworking himself. Harm to his family, and not finishing something he started.

	Granted, Altissima's name wasn't something he started, himself, but speaking the name in full was its own sort of completion.

	At the sound of his master's voice, the stallion finally began to rise to its hooves, shaking under its own weight as the large, stocky horse rose to all fours. With a regretful sigh, knowing that his reply to the enchanter had broken the peace that had fallen over steed and master, Ochre pulled himself upright with a pained groan, sitting up in his cart seat with a lethargic glance towards the metal harness for his horse. [color=orange]"Don't matter. Gonna lend a hand with this? Heading to town for raiding party."[/color]