Yuvon didn’t forget things.
He was incapable of forgetting anything he experienced in life. His Memory-Make Magic prevented him from forgetting even the slightest details, much to both his favor and chagrin. Some delicious events were savored for eternity, and other… less favorable events would always haunt his mind at night. It was part of his ephemeral life as a mage, and it was a part of himself that he had acclimated to long ago. No matter what traumas he would experience in life, as long as he kept his head high and marched forward, he would grow stronger than that trauma. He would grow stronger than time itself, one day, that much was certain for him. His ambition was unyielding… but so was his vibe.
And his vibe was that of a young lad just wanting to relax and read a good book on the couch in the guild hall when other members were away. If you ever needed his help, you could find him either reading or straight up snoring his worries away on that couch… but responsibility was ultimate. And what symbolized responsibility in its textbook form?
Having a kid, of course.
Masha, the oddly attractive mem- oh wait, she was a succubus… but surely, her beauty was all her, right? It would sound like an insult to a fellow member of the esteemed Silver Pack to say that merely her succubus heritage contributed to her olympian beauty- but then again, how could it truly be proven? If anything, merely speculating over it was a bad manner… he silently apologized to the redhead sorceress with both hands clapped in front of him.
Damn, now he felt bad… he should try to make her a gift or something. Maybe a flan- yes, flan! And she had an adorable, little wolf pup with her too – Giovanni, arguably the youngest member of a guild ever in the history of guilds. Flan was safe and soft enough for the toddler to try… but it had to be a good flan. No, the best flan!
That was it! Genius! Yuvon did possess a recipe that he borrowed from his aunt before leaving Minstrel! All he had to do was to hit the kitchen up and… and…
As he stayed on the couch with no intention of moving, he realized something grave. Apocrypha usually had the most organized structure and collection of documents, but the recipe on flan was on the far ends of his head. He had trouble thinking back to it… so he had to physically enter Apocrypha and fetch the recipe by hand. Ohhhhh, that was going to be a journey – Apocrypha was the manifestation of his mind and self, a library of his subconscious design, and he hadn’t visited the place in a while.
“Hmmmhh… surely, I can conjure back the recipe just like thi- n-no, too far back in my memory, huh? How come I can’t fetch it back up immediately? Apocrypha must be in grave need of an overhaul… the Seekers also need a makeover, too, they keep scaring my precious guildmates! How come they even look like sentient octopi to begin with? It’s rather peculiar that they’d decide to take that form, I didn’t even give the command… and I remember that very clearly. A lot must change…”
Slowly but surely, he just began monologuing about the possible updates he desired to commit on the pocket dimension in his brain known as Apocrypha. Claiming the couch like that, he possibly looked a little… off – especially wearing that Cthulhu-inspired mask. Deep inside, however, he was a gentle soul… but a few workers easily left him alone there, simply deciding to ignore his presence on their way out of the guild hall.
WC: 624
He was incapable of forgetting anything he experienced in life. His Memory-Make Magic prevented him from forgetting even the slightest details, much to both his favor and chagrin. Some delicious events were savored for eternity, and other… less favorable events would always haunt his mind at night. It was part of his ephemeral life as a mage, and it was a part of himself that he had acclimated to long ago. No matter what traumas he would experience in life, as long as he kept his head high and marched forward, he would grow stronger than that trauma. He would grow stronger than time itself, one day, that much was certain for him. His ambition was unyielding… but so was his vibe.
And his vibe was that of a young lad just wanting to relax and read a good book on the couch in the guild hall when other members were away. If you ever needed his help, you could find him either reading or straight up snoring his worries away on that couch… but responsibility was ultimate. And what symbolized responsibility in its textbook form?
Having a kid, of course.
Masha, the oddly attractive mem- oh wait, she was a succubus… but surely, her beauty was all her, right? It would sound like an insult to a fellow member of the esteemed Silver Pack to say that merely her succubus heritage contributed to her olympian beauty- but then again, how could it truly be proven? If anything, merely speculating over it was a bad manner… he silently apologized to the redhead sorceress with both hands clapped in front of him.
Damn, now he felt bad… he should try to make her a gift or something. Maybe a flan- yes, flan! And she had an adorable, little wolf pup with her too – Giovanni, arguably the youngest member of a guild ever in the history of guilds. Flan was safe and soft enough for the toddler to try… but it had to be a good flan. No, the best flan!
That was it! Genius! Yuvon did possess a recipe that he borrowed from his aunt before leaving Minstrel! All he had to do was to hit the kitchen up and… and…
As he stayed on the couch with no intention of moving, he realized something grave. Apocrypha usually had the most organized structure and collection of documents, but the recipe on flan was on the far ends of his head. He had trouble thinking back to it… so he had to physically enter Apocrypha and fetch the recipe by hand. Ohhhhh, that was going to be a journey – Apocrypha was the manifestation of his mind and self, a library of his subconscious design, and he hadn’t visited the place in a while.
“Hmmmhh… surely, I can conjure back the recipe just like thi- n-no, too far back in my memory, huh? How come I can’t fetch it back up immediately? Apocrypha must be in grave need of an overhaul… the Seekers also need a makeover, too, they keep scaring my precious guildmates! How come they even look like sentient octopi to begin with? It’s rather peculiar that they’d decide to take that form, I didn’t even give the command… and I remember that very clearly. A lot must change…”
Slowly but surely, he just began monologuing about the possible updates he desired to commit on the pocket dimension in his brain known as Apocrypha. Claiming the couch like that, he possibly looked a little… off – especially wearing that Cthulhu-inspired mask. Deep inside, however, he was a gentle soul… but a few workers easily left him alone there, simply deciding to ignore his presence on their way out of the guild hall.
WC: 624