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[eyrienprince]

Lucivar is bemused, stressed, worried, and frustrated all at the same time, which does not make for a very happy Warlord Prince. He's channeling his nervous energy as he usually does, by practicing with the sticks, but he's shifted by now to just pitching knives at a tree and seeing how far he can embed them without using Craft, his teeth gritted and his tension clearly visible in his hunched shoulders. Lucivar still hasn't figured out that at the Mansion, going with the flow is a good idea. He's never been much good at that, anyway.

So here he is, golden eyes narrowed and shirt off despite the cold, scowling viciously at nothing in particular, the only real sound right now the methodic thunk sccchh thunk sccchhh of the knife jamming into wood and being called back.