Snippet #1977069

Names, names, names everywhere. Luciando have always had a hard time with names, instead he refers to his companions by their appearance. "It is not that difficult to tell my brother apart," he replied to the elven female. "Sephiroth is the weaker one, more attached to his feelings and thoughts. It is quite pathetic actually. The fool hesitates with his decisions and thinks of the consequences of his actions." He shook his head, though he and his brother personality share the same body, they are very different from one another. At times he hates being mistaken as Sephiroth, but it does come in handy when he--at a rare occasion-- is careless with his crimes. Sephiroth always somehow is dropped with all charges, claiming that it was not him who committed such vile acts.

"As for I, well, I do hate to brag." He grins as the werewolf circles around him, observing him as if he were a subject. "I'm more courageous than he, cunning even," He leaned closer to the wolf only whispering into her ear. "And far more dangerous." He winked and brought his attention to the undead.

"Ah, that is good question," Luciando spoke in a light tone as he ran a hand through his ebony hair. "There are many things I have done, stole from elves, holding a few lizard men as captives, murdered a few humans--only that they deserve it of course. But I'd have to say, that his Highness would want my head to escape death." He nodded slightly knowing that none would fully understand him.

Once the Elven spoke, he brought his hand to his side, expecting to take hold of his tote bag, nothing. He reached behind praying that he at least had quiver of arrows, success! Now to find his crossbow. . . "Nothing but this dagger and a few bows," he reached behind him, taking the silver bow and showing them to the female.