and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
The barracks were just another place Varus often spent milling about. Being the Captain had its duties and part of that was ensuring the place was ready for whatever came next. Today he’s had a bit of a slow start – half between spending the morning walking with Isla to the clinic and gathering the rest of a few things he needs for new targets to replace the older ones, the check ins with the blacksmiths on how the upgrades to the weaponry were coming along. He finds himself here, dropping off the rolls of fabric beside the lumbar he’d gathered not too long ago.
What he doesn’t expect is to see the makeshift boxing ring, a sandbag hoisted above, a punch that barely does anything to the bag. A dark brow rises curiously, metal hand rising to brush his long hair from his face as he steps up. “Hey.” He greets – not recognizing this person. “Might need to work yourself up to there. Get some strength training.” He suggests, pausing to cross one entirely metal arm with the other fleshy one across his chest. “I could help if you’re looking for it.”
What he doesn’t expect is to see the makeshift boxing ring, a sandbag hoisted above, a punch that barely does anything to the bag. A dark brow rises curiously, metal hand rising to brush his long hair from his face as he steps up. “Hey.” He greets – not recognizing this person. “Might need to work yourself up to there. Get some strength training.” He suggests, pausing to cross one entirely metal arm with the other fleshy one across his chest. “I could help if you’re looking for it.”
VARUS
