"Are. You. Fucking. Kidding Me?!" He walked in, seeing Vern on the edge of his bed. The man was still carving away delicately at the small fragment of modelling equipment he had left in his hand.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready for that meeting that's like...in... He looked for a clock, trying to make himself sound more intelligent towards his room-mate. Being unsuccessful, he continued onwards.
"In....soon...you are still not fully ready and...You are still fucking making decorations?!" At this point, Vern looked up, giving his slightly superior comrade a half grin.
"You know I've been working hard on this one, Grant...let me have my fun at least..." Grant looked at the bin, seeing it filled with countless blocks of
failed-attempts at the very same model he was making now. They looked hardly different, yet Vern's eyes they were abominations waiting to be burnt.
"I can...see you've tried a lot." Grant would chuckle slightly, with his deep and monotone grunt.
"So what's it this time? Another bow? Maybe a swordsmen? Is it th-""Poloa." Vern interrupted him kindly, giving another grin before looking back at his nearly complete carving. It was the look of an elderly
woman, and possessed many features of rural-clothing and looks.
"You remember Poloa, right? She was that nearly ancient lady that kept selling strange herbs and spices to anyone lucky enough to go by her. Sometimes she'd tell a tale of the Lost, sometimes of the Feren...sometimes of the Origins of man itself...Pretty odd, for my liking." Grant was one of the few people that Vern had actually gotten to know extremely well. They had only fought beside one another for so little time, Vern using most of his service time with Weapons maintenance and design. However, these two had formed some sort of small bond, Vern actually being the one who had tweaked the thin sword of Grant. The two talked normally amongst each other, as if life-long friends, which was rather a strange sight if Vern was more famous than he really wasn't. Vern had quite a difficult time having conversations that involved such friendly
Banter between one another.
"You mean Poloa the Witch? God I loved that woman..." This led to Vern's face having a smile creep in an ascending motion. He looked back up towards his partner and burst out laughing, right after he stated his long-waited joke.
"I see you prefer the more...Mature-Type." He continued to chuckle, before standing up.
Vern shuffled his way towards the nearest lighting, holding the carved object in the air. He would scrutinize the markings he had made overtime, looking to and fro at every hair line he had made. The eyes were of a natural shape, though they were previously messed up in the other attempts. Braids on the rear of the handheld ornament were rather iffy for what Vern thought, yet were most likely good in other people's eyes. It was no wonder that no one had ever really admired these other than those on his home island...well...who aren't exactly in existence anymore. He smiled slightly as he finally appreciated what he had carved.
"Such smoothness in this one. I should surely be proud to call this my own work, Grant. You should try this too; I'm a bit tired of having no one who shares any interests in my ornaments and how they are made...""Maybe because, funnily enough...it's boring?" Grant called from underneath his pillow. He'd been up all night talking to some random girl that he'd been fantasising over for nearly a year now. Rather annoying, yet Vern was on par with his unfortunately unlike-able hobby.
"You should probably get the rest of your fucking gear on and get a move on, you cheeky sod!" Him saying this, Vern jumped back into attention, rummaging around the room quickly to find some stuff to take with him. He wanted to look presentable, and that meant his hunter-attire. He fitted on a Green-Short sleeved Shirt, one that was dotted with buttons and made from a rather thin material [The one's you'd find on chequered shirts], a rough pair of loose sage trousers, the utility one-strap harness of a muddy colour and a forest coloured, hooded cape that bared the family's
insignia upon it. Vern began to open his pockets on the Utility harness, packing the decoration into the biggest. Leaving it hear alone at this early in its life is a dangerous move, especially with Grant and his clumsy needs lurking around. Opening the door, he looked behind him, his already on footwear, lined with gripping-jagged linings on the under-face, and headed out the door. As he closed it behind him, he felt a sudden thrust of anxiety, knowing that this meeting could go horribly wrong on the behalf of confidence. This could be a major shift in his career, and the people he comes across might hate him forever and ever....well...shit.
Banned
