(no subject)
Garion's outside.
His shirt's been stuffed into his scabbard and his cloak sits on top of that as he practices with the massive Sword. The breath puffs out of him in white clouds and similar slips off of him in the form of sweat, but he doesn't seem to mind. The sword itself is in his hand, swinging through the air in graceful arcs. It's not actually on fire, but the blue glow refuses to disappate and Garion's not about to argue with the Orb over it. The shadows around him act strange, almost as if they were more than shadows, but he doesn't seem to be paying them any mind as he goes through the various forms he'd known since he was a boy.
Feel free to disturb. At a distance, preferably.
His shirt's been stuffed into his scabbard and his cloak sits on top of that as he practices with the massive Sword. The breath puffs out of him in white clouds and similar slips off of him in the form of sweat, but he doesn't seem to mind. The sword itself is in his hand, swinging through the air in graceful arcs. It's not actually on fire, but the blue glow refuses to disappate and Garion's not about to argue with the Orb over it. The shadows around him act strange, almost as if they were more than shadows, but he doesn't seem to be paying them any mind as he goes through the various forms he'd known since he was a boy.
Feel free to disturb. At a distance, preferably.