In These Halls -- Hollow Bastion [Complete]
Standing in front of the mirror, Vincent was simply eyeing his own appearance for lack of anything better to do with himself. He was not a vain man, not anymore at least. The man that stood before the mirror was a mourning fragment of the original Turk that had been called an expert marksman. The gun tucked into the hoister attested to that claim, and it was one of the few objects that never left his presence no matter the situation, and, even before a mirror, the trusted Death Penalty was peaceful at his side.
Reaching up, he tucked the collar of his massive red cloak higher on his face, mildly pleased when his lips and chin became fully obscured. His attention shifted down to the buckles that held the cloak together, and he casually adjusted them right again. After that was done, his red eyes darted over his appearance to make sure that all was present and well on his lithe form.
The belts around his hip and right thigh were comfortable and not restraining. The cloak was a wonderful fit despite its bulk and hid more of his frame from view, making sure that all who encountered him would have some difficulty gauging his muscle mass and body language - not that he had much of either. His boots were snug around his legs, the metal portions that surrounded his feet never making a sound no matter how he attempted to clomp around the halls. His right arm was covered over and belted in place, gloves and leather well-fitted to his body type, and his fingers twitched at his side to test for versatility of the gloves; all was well there. The red headband kept his hair mostly from his eyes, and he dared not remove it for fear that he would never find himself again once his hair did flop over into his face. And the metal claw that was his left arm... well, it was always there as a constant reminder, and it was not like he could or would actually remove it.
Rolling his shoulders, he nodded to himself. He reached back and patted the various pouches he had attached to his belt, counting to make sure they were all there and filled with the chosen materials of the evening. Everything that he owned or held dear was on him somewhere, hidden by cloak that slipped effortlessly down to his heels. This was how it had to be, and he was not sure when he would return to this place again. Perhaps it was best if he never returned?
Shaking his dark hair out in a negative fashion, Vincent reached back and pulled a flask from one of the pouches in the back. He shook it a few times and pulled free the lid, feeling a stirring in the back of his mind, one he was all too familiar with. He paid the other little of his attention and brought the flask to his lips, taking a mouthful of the liquid contained within. He grimaced as the sweet metallic tang slipped down his throat and shook his head to rid himself of any possible images that came with taking his 'medication'. It was better than the alternative.
...Bitch, Chaos muttered angrily and retreated again.
Vincent tucked the flask away again and glanced to the doorway that would lead him out into the vast halls of Hollow Bastion's castle. There were Heartless out in those corridors, and there was a war beyond that. He had ignored both long enough, and it was time to put all of his hard-earned skills to better use rather than just skulking in dark corners. He owed it to Lucrecia, and he would do anything for her memory.
Stepping up, he slipped through the doorway silently and into the dark halls of Hollow Bastion, glowing red eyes shifting around the hall. For once, he did not simply step into the shadows and disappear from sight. No, he walked down the various halls in plain sight, his red cloak shifting around his frame with each carefully placed step. He felt so vulnerable out in the open, and his right hand constantly strayed to the gun at his hip, eyes constantly on the move.
After a tour of the entire facility, he found himself relaxed again. He needed to find information on the current battles and the strength of the Heartless in the areas. Some knowledge about worlds outside of his own would also be well-worth his efforts. He knew exactly where to find his knowledge, and he found himself in the library within minutes, mostly because he knew the short-cuts to get to such a place.
The smell of old books was something he had not forgotten, and he stepped over to a shelf. Reading the titles, he finally chose one that appeared to be interesting. He flipped through a couple of pages and stood silently reading for some time.
Reaching up, he tucked the collar of his massive red cloak higher on his face, mildly pleased when his lips and chin became fully obscured. His attention shifted down to the buckles that held the cloak together, and he casually adjusted them right again. After that was done, his red eyes darted over his appearance to make sure that all was present and well on his lithe form.
The belts around his hip and right thigh were comfortable and not restraining. The cloak was a wonderful fit despite its bulk and hid more of his frame from view, making sure that all who encountered him would have some difficulty gauging his muscle mass and body language - not that he had much of either. His boots were snug around his legs, the metal portions that surrounded his feet never making a sound no matter how he attempted to clomp around the halls. His right arm was covered over and belted in place, gloves and leather well-fitted to his body type, and his fingers twitched at his side to test for versatility of the gloves; all was well there. The red headband kept his hair mostly from his eyes, and he dared not remove it for fear that he would never find himself again once his hair did flop over into his face. And the metal claw that was his left arm... well, it was always there as a constant reminder, and it was not like he could or would actually remove it.
Rolling his shoulders, he nodded to himself. He reached back and patted the various pouches he had attached to his belt, counting to make sure they were all there and filled with the chosen materials of the evening. Everything that he owned or held dear was on him somewhere, hidden by cloak that slipped effortlessly down to his heels. This was how it had to be, and he was not sure when he would return to this place again. Perhaps it was best if he never returned?
Shaking his dark hair out in a negative fashion, Vincent reached back and pulled a flask from one of the pouches in the back. He shook it a few times and pulled free the lid, feeling a stirring in the back of his mind, one he was all too familiar with. He paid the other little of his attention and brought the flask to his lips, taking a mouthful of the liquid contained within. He grimaced as the sweet metallic tang slipped down his throat and shook his head to rid himself of any possible images that came with taking his 'medication'. It was better than the alternative.
...Bitch, Chaos muttered angrily and retreated again.
Vincent tucked the flask away again and glanced to the doorway that would lead him out into the vast halls of Hollow Bastion's castle. There were Heartless out in those corridors, and there was a war beyond that. He had ignored both long enough, and it was time to put all of his hard-earned skills to better use rather than just skulking in dark corners. He owed it to Lucrecia, and he would do anything for her memory.
Stepping up, he slipped through the doorway silently and into the dark halls of Hollow Bastion, glowing red eyes shifting around the hall. For once, he did not simply step into the shadows and disappear from sight. No, he walked down the various halls in plain sight, his red cloak shifting around his frame with each carefully placed step. He felt so vulnerable out in the open, and his right hand constantly strayed to the gun at his hip, eyes constantly on the move.
After a tour of the entire facility, he found himself relaxed again. He needed to find information on the current battles and the strength of the Heartless in the areas. Some knowledge about worlds outside of his own would also be well-worth his efforts. He knew exactly where to find his knowledge, and he found himself in the library within minutes, mostly because he knew the short-cuts to get to such a place.
The smell of old books was something he had not forgotten, and he stepped over to a shelf. Reading the titles, he finally chose one that appeared to be interesting. He flipped through a couple of pages and stood silently reading for some time.