[center][b]Brahelius Strombe[/b]
[i]Tokyo, Ramen Stand --> Tokyo Streets[/i][/center]

Home.

A simple word that conveyed much meaning. For Lancer it was a place of rest and camaraderie. Precious memories of shared times together, each moment binding together a lifetime of experiences.

Such a definition was only slightly out of line with Brahelius' own. With an almost bitter smile, he began sedately picking at his noodles, eating them in an almost somber manner.

"Home, to me, is a place of peril. Of the continuous struggle for improvement, not for myself, but for the legacy left for me, and my descendants. The unending cycle of fate bringing ruin upon my household. Complacency has no place there, for it must be guarded continuously, even if it is ultimately pointless in the end. 

Because such a thing is precious. Because to lose yourself in defeat is the same as losing your life and sanity.

Forgive me for seeming so sentimental. But home is where the heart is. Not because of anything like it being where you hold precious memories or anything like that. But because it's the purest expression of self, the essence of a being distilled and collected into one place, separated from the collective identity of mankind."

Picking up his bowl, Brahelius immersed himself within the last vestiges of his meal before cleaning the bowl of its broth, not a single drop remaining.

"That is not to say physical locations do not have their own value. The Strombe family workshop is situated where it is, even with all it's dangers and perils, because of the great advantage it grants us. And I would loathe to pass up a good room in exchange for a much poorer one.

Even in this backwater, I find myself enjoying myself far more then I would at my ancestral home. You asked me if I enjoy such meals at my home did you not? Truthfully, Lancer, often times our pantry would be low on supplies. One of the disadvantaged of living so far away from modern civilization I suppose. We would often have to carefully ration out our supplies before the next shipment reached us.

As a result, I did not have what could be called the most lavish lifestyle."

Peering into the now polished bowl, Brahelius looked sadly into his reflection, eyes far too old to belong to such a young man sitting within his sockets, before a vigor sprang into his pupils.

"But I will not dwell on such things, even if they haunt me still. I had come to this land so I can be rid of that curse, of that unbroken cycle. The moon's bane will conquer no longer once I have won this grand ritual. Finally, only then will I be home.

Only then, will I find peace."

Conviction shined through his eyes, a minuscule crack forming from the strength of his grip upon the bowl.

"Come, Lancer, the night is still young, and there are many more delicacies to try out before the war begins in earnest. We shall return to our homes over the course of this ritual. For you, new comrades and memories. And for me, I will know peace. Or else at least, she never shall. 

This I swear on the name of Strombe, Thrice Cursed Moon Excluder!"