A Regret and A Promise [Job/Hero-Isaac]

Blood splattered on the walls, distant screams of women and children, the flakes of burning wood cackling into the air, savage like battle cries and only a bright and glorious moon present to guide their bloody ways. That was perhaps the earliest memory that Isaac had of his early twenties, mass murdering, bringing genocide to lively villages that had been alive more than the villagers' ages combined, satisfaction found in one sided pleasures, torture. Back then, that sort of lifestyle wasn't so uncommon. But though plenty common, not at all painless.

He could remember slicing the children that he played with and guided in an orphanage, alongside a nice old lady who he slayed as well. All being beaten, killed, enslaved, amongst other things. Some may say that you grow immune to the pain and disgust of murder, but that would only apply to those who were born with cold, unforgiving blood. Of which, no matter how hard he tried to adapt, his warm heart would melt the iciness of the blood away.

This was some but centuries ago, but he couldn't help but grimly reminisce over his sinful actions. He could never go a day without questioning whether enjoying life's simplest pleasures should or should not be given to him, for he had slayed so many before they got the opportunity to even taste the air of oceans, or walk on their own two legs, or maybe even get to explore. He felt as if someone as punishable as he would not be able to enjoy the life he has been given knowing what he's done.

But he didn't have much of a goal, or an idea of how to repay for his crimes. He sought death, but that was a silly option. He saw it as an easy way out of his sins, and he, a man of honor and truth, would not take exit so easily.

So, he came to the conclusion to lead, guide, and help other for his career as both wizard and Rune Knight. And so, he will. He does not expect the job to be easy, and may even sacrifice his life in order to achieve such a protection if need be, but he would always be ready for that. Despite what greed or selfishness he may be fed.

On that note, Isaac's eyes had fluttered open, revealing his golden-yellow eyes, which would only gaze at the ceiling unmoving. "..." And said nothing, indeed.

Sighing, he raised himself from the pillow and upper half of the mattress, running his fingers through his short hair, then taking that same hand and looking at it. He wasn't the same as he was a few centuries ago, and no day passed without him grimly irking over it. Though, at this period of time he had grown used to the physical changes.

His legs had flipped over on the edge of the bed, ripping the thin sheets off of his body with no regard for how he left his bed. If anything, he felt groggy this morning, and genuinely preferred not to work, but he was appointed to tag along with a recent colleague on another mission.

Standing up from the bed with an irritable expression, he twisted and turned his body in order to make an effort to stretch, which worked out perfectly as he proceeded to his wardrobe to commence his morning procedure. His mahogany doors to the wardrobe swung open swiftly, revealing a long green coat, brown pants, knee-high boots, a tan scarf, and a red fez hat. Along with a mask, considering his face is usually obscured by a white mask. He had plenty of other dos as well, but this one was most appropriate for missions requiring travel or a some sort of hike, under the assumption that they would be traveling in the first place.

Quickly and efficiently, he reached into the wardrobe and proceeded to dress himself appropriately, soon afterwards he head downstairs without truly bestowing attention to his bed or tidiness of his room and how he left it, and figured that he would come back to do all of that in the evening.

On that note, he walked down the stairs and over to his kitchen. This particular home was in Hargeon Town, and in fact owned several homes in different towns and places. This certainly came in handy when he needed to station in different areas of Fiore, how likely that was.

Regarding the kitchen, it was tidier than every other room in his home. - Why? Well, that question was simple. He never used it. He couldn't cook, whatsoever. It wasn't so tidy and untouched-like because he cleaned it a lot, but because none of it's facilities were ever used, hence only being cleaned when the natural hindrances would collect in them. He'd always eat out or buy something for breakfast, and although hungry, he'd pick something up on the way to the mission destination.

[W.I.P]