Post by kidradd on Apr 1, 2016 22:38:34 GMT -5
Name: Mathurin Flintside
Race: Human
Age: 19
Birthplace: Bastion
Allegiance: Sith Empire
Status: Sith Order
Rank: Initiate
Height/Weight: 5'10/145 lbs
Appearance:
Mathurin's hair is a fair blonde and parted at the right temple with bangs swept in layers to the left to trace along his high hairline past his left temple while his eyebrows are thick, straight, and end in a taper. His straight nose is narrow and button-round while his expressive eyes are thickly lashed and wide beneath his heavy upper eyelids. The young man's full pink lips and piercing blue eyes contrast sharply against his pale peach skin and his narrow jawline and subtle cheeks lend themselves to an air of beauty despite his strong chin.
Mathurin's body is tall and lean, and, though his lithe frame is well-defined thanks to his disciplined upbringing, lacks any definitive muscle mass. Not quite "androgynous", Mathurin may best be described as looking "soft", though he is anything but.
Telling of his priviledged upbringing, Mathurin is devoid of any serious scars or blemishes. His hands, while uneven from use and broken bones, lacks the callouses and weathering of someone who uses them for a living. His time was spent studying and being educated. Even when he was exercising, training, or fighting, it was controlled and guided. This level of pampering shows in his untainted image. It's also reflected in the way he carries himself... from the way he walks to the gestures he makes when he speaks Mathurin clearly oozes pompous self-indulgence.
Personality:
Mathurin may seem your typical military brat. He was raised in a rigid environment of discipline while also pampered as the heir and sole hope his family had at achieving any kind of standing. He is both pompous and arrogant, disdainful, dismissive, and sadistic. This youth has a sharp and calculating mind that is often going a mile a minute.
Rarely is his attention captured fully thanks to his dismissive nature so he generally appears aloof and indifferent. In truth, he has nothing but contempt and rage for most people. Even those that impress him soon shift to an obstacle to be overcome and utterly destroyed. If there is even a hint of good in him it shows in his thoughtfulness; Very socially-aware, Mathurin is quite adept at anticipating the feelings and needs of others. His pragmatic approach and his need to control every detail means that when he has done something cruel it is not because he did not recognize it would hurt you, but rather, that was what he'd desired.
Trust him as far as you throw him. He was born to be a Sith.
Ships/Vehicles:
N/A
Equipment:
Stats:
Strength - Below-Average
Agility - Average
Intelligence - Above-Average
Charisma - Above-Average
Force Stats:
Telekinetic-Unskilled
Telepathic- Unskilled
Body- Unskilled
Sense- Novice
Protection- Unskilled
Healing:– Unskilled
Destruction– Novice
Combat Training:
Echani - Novice
Vibroblade - Novice
Blasters - Novice
Force Training: Untrained
Other Training:
Piloting - Novice
Dejarik - Novice
Lightsaber Training:
Shii-Cho- Untrained
Makashi- Untrained
Soresu- Untrained
Ataru- Untrained
Shien/Djem So- Untrained
>>Sub-form Backhanded- Untrained
Niman- Untrained
>>Sub-form Jar-kai- Untrained
Juyo- Untrained
Double Bladed Combat- Untrained
Biography:
Born as the eldest son to a minor House of standing on the planet Bastion, nobility and status were not only instilled within him since birth but in his very blood. With his status came a life of luxury and preferential treatment, though it was often veiled by the rigors of being prepared for his responsibilities. As heir-apparent of a minor family on the military planet of Bastion it was his duty and obligation, let alone his "destiny" to achieve greatness so that he might elevate his family beyond their meager platform.
As a child he was properly educated in the standards of etiquette, academia, military, and athletics. Like the other children his age he was taught to treat them as rivals and competition rather than comrades or friends. His "peers" were mainly obstacles that spoke, so far as his parents were concerned. It was up to him to vindicate their bloodline, after all! There would be no room for weakness, hesitation, or mediocrity. Thus, he was raised to treat those socioeconomically lower than himself as little more than fodder and thus beyond him as goals that he must (begrudgingly) bow to when necessary.
From the onset his game was the long one. At first, it was by his parents' design, however, the problem in educating one's pawn surfaced in Mathurin was a young teenager. The sharp youth came to understand the despicable and detestable nature of his parents' manipulation. Seeing them as the self-serving leeches living vicariously through him that they were, Mathurin came to despite them. He saw his father as nothing more than a pale imitation of what their legacy was meant to be and felt nothing but contempt for him for placing his hopes of greatness in a child and similarly viewed his mother as a duplicitious witch willing to betray any in her pursuit of wealth, luxury, and standing. When Mathurin's father proved incapable of delivering that future to her she sank her fangs into her son. In response, Mathurin began to use the very same social tactics they'd taught him to blend in and deceive his peers and tutors against his parents themselves!
As a young man he focused more upon his academics and knowledge than his athletics and combat training, though the utilitarian in him recognized them as equally necessary for survival in the galaxy, especially if he were to pursue a path amongst the Imperial Navy, for while the day-to-day navigation ultimately would fall to beauracuracy and politics it would ultimately be built on the blood of his opposition, whether that be in proxy through a military campaign or literally would be their choice. It was also at this stage in his life that his parents began trying to pair him with a girl that could elevate his standing through marriage: Serbera Odollom.
Serbera, like Mathurin, was an absolute viper. Just as intelligent and twice as charming, Serbera knew the game Mathurin's parents played. Her parents played a similar game with another boy their age by the name of Dionosco Steele, whose family had the highest standing among the three. Serbera, though, had no interest in either boy, which worked out just as well since Mathurin and Dionosco were more interested in each other than Serbera. That didn't mean they couldn't play a game of their own, though.
Wanting to be free of his life on Bastion, Dionosco would marry Serbera. At the wedding they would poison all three of their families so that they would inherit their assets. Dionosco and and Mathurin would fake their deaths, with Mathurin leaving his estate to his unrequited love Serbera and Dionosco's becoming Serbera's through marriage. The two would flee Bastion and lay low until Serbera could transfer a portion of their wealth to the two while keeping a portion for herself.
It was a move that would take time to set-up properly and even longer to establish the public presence necessary between them to make it believable. Mathurin, for his part, embraced the image his parents had tried to create for him. To those around him he appeared to be a genuine suitor enamored with Serbera - it wasn't unbelievable, the beauty had plenty of boys seeking her affections - while Serbera and Dionosco would "sneak off", always careful to be spotted by somebody on their way.
So it was. Mathurin spent his time attending his lessons, developing his skills, honing his arts, while Serbera and Dionosco devoted much of their time to their illusion. When the time came the plan was executed flawlessly...or, nearly...
Serbera and Dionosco were legally bound, their marriage consumated with their vows and a kiss, and their reception was beautiful. Music played, children laughed and danced. The staff was hand-picked, including a staffer they could pin the whole scheme on. Dionosco, however, got cold feet. He had actually fallen in love with Serbera through their time together and didn't want to go on the run, abandon his House, or kill his family. The three argued quietly in the kitchen, for they had only a few moments to pull it off. Dionosco was adamant, though. It would not happen.
This, of course, was unacceptable to the other parties involved. Just as Dionosco was about to betray their plan Serbera stabbed him in the heart with a kitchen utensil while ordering Mathurin to poison the punch. Hiding Dionosco, Serbera waited in the shadows of the kitchen while Mathurin made sure the drinks were served to everyone. Mathurin yet had plans of his own. Once his parents had consumed their punch (anyone else that drank it was collateral) he came shouting from the kitchen, warning the others not to drink the punch. Serbera, he warned, was a black widow. With his parents fainting Mathurin "rushed to their aid" and continued his warning, that he had heard her conspiring with the cook to poison the punch. He never got to finish his story, however, as Serbera let out a shrill scream that pierced the night.
The bride stumbled into the main hall coated in her deceased husband's blood while pointing and screaming hysterically. Her accusatory finger would have run Mathurin through had it been any more intense. He killed her husband, she cried. He, the jealous one. It was well-rehearsed, better and more believable than he ever could be. She always was more charming.
When the guards subdued him he felt a boiling rage and fear that had surpassed anything he had ever felt before. It was as if his entire childhood were coming to a head. He felt as if lightning flowed through him and ignited his core. Rage pulsed through him in intense waves that left a buzzing in his ears. He did not have the strength to pull free or to run. He could not wrestle away from them. For all of his training and exercising and knowledge of technique they were better and had leverage and numbers that he could not compete with. The sheer weight of the situation and the paralysis that arose from his inequity bore something from deep within him. Savage and raw, the teenager bellowed. His rage surged through him, and with it came a strength he had never before demonstrated. Not that Mathurin had noticed; He had blacked-out into his frenzy. In this state the youth's pain, fear, and hate were untethered and his call of the Force, though completely untrained, was just enough to give him the edge on the unsuspecting guards. Pulling his arms free, Mathurin yanked his elbow up into the Adam's Apple of the guard to his right before twisting and driving his hand against the throat of the guard to his left. The two of them charged through the hall until the guard's back was against the wall and his feet were off the ground. The scrawny youth had hoisted the guard into the air with his chokehold, and though his arm trembled in fatigue and his shoulder ached he cared not for his safety or health. Self-preservation would empower him here, not restrain him.
Though the remaining guards were taken aback by the sudden surge they regrouped quickly enough and began battering the young man's shoulders and back in an effort to sedate him. One quick-thinking fellow activated the stun capabilities of their prod and jammed it into the side of Mathurin's neck. Stunning electricity flowed through both Mathurin and the helpless guard in his grip, though it was the guard who passed out in a cry of anguish. Mathurin was only dropped to his knees.
He made one effort to stand back up when he was smashed across the back of the head. Darkness seized him after that.
He was in the brig awaiting sentencing and, ultimately, execution, when he was visited by an esteemed guest. He didn't know him by name but had surely seen him around on Bastion before. Even if he hadn't, one look, one breath, one instant in his presence and one would know who stood before them - a Sith. One of their diplomats, but a Sith nonetheless. He stood with his chest puffed and his arms behind his back; It was a regal posture he'd seen many times on Bastion though he wasn't sure he'd even seen anyone believe themselves so much as this Sith before him.
Still feeling rebellious and not particularly caring who it was directed at, Mathurin did what he could to ignore the Sith entirely. Surely, some game was to be had, and Mathurin wanted no part of it. At least, that was what he told himself.
In truth, he wanted someone to understand his position, to feel for his plight, to pity him for falling just short of success. With minimal goading from the Sith Mathurin eventually did tell his tale. In his rage he owned it and confessed whole-heartedly, for, though they called it a crime of passion, by Mathurin's own admission the only passion he'd ever felt was disdain, envy, disgust, and rage. The Sith seemed unimpressed, for surely there were many angsty youths throughout the galaxy who all felt their own hatred was the purest and most righteous, but offered Mathurin a second chance nonetheless. What he'd instigated took vision, drive, discipline. It was borne of a cold-hearted, calculated mind that, while sloppy and unrefined, had potential. Most importantly, Serbera had already liquidated most of the Steele estate and was gone, for now, which meant Mathurin was not just a consolation but a necessity. Sith do not leave empty-handed.
Feeling that, perhaps, everything had happened exactly as it was supposed to, Mathurin took the Sith up on his offer and was released to the custody of the Sith Empire on the condition that he join them as a faithful servant. Seeing no alternative and eager to develop his skills and power, Mathurin agreed and was shipped off to the academy on Korriban to begin his training.
Roleplay Sample:
Mathurin's nostrils flared as he took a sharp inhale through them and assumed the salute of Echani. Across from him stood his partner Dionosco Steele. The two were from the same social circle, though Mathurin occupied the lowest economic (and thus social) rung while Dionosco claimed the highest. To most it was charity that he would even train with Mathurin, the truth of it was just the opposite.
The blonde assumed his ready position out of habit and routine. He was seeing Dionosco but his mind was elsewhere. He had plans - very specific plans - and it was important that both Dionosco and Mathurin played their parts to a T. When their tutor signaled the beginning of the match both teens sprang forward into striking distance. Dionosco was the stronger of the two but Mathurin was quicker, more precise, and more calculating. His moves were more efficient than his opponent's. Thanks to the particular style of Echani Dionosco's strength soon meant little to Mathurin's proper leverage. Within a few moments he had Dionosco's arms behind his back so that his left hand was pinned against the small of his back and his right was pressed against the nape of his neck.
When Dionosco began to complain Mathurin pulled in close and hissed a warning to him,
"Remember, we each have our part to play."
He knew by the sharp inhale and holding of Dionosco's breath that he had him. He could have commanded him to do anything and he would have complied, and soon enough the calculating teenager was apt to do just that.
In due time...
Mathurin waited until the third time their tutor ordered he let Dionosco go before he complied.
"I'm off to see Serbera. Let's hope you and I don't run into each other."
With that he grabbed his jacket and strode out of the training hall.
Race: Human
Age: 19
Birthplace: Bastion
Allegiance: Sith Empire
Status: Sith Order
Rank: Initiate
Height/Weight: 5'10/145 lbs
Appearance:
Mathurin's hair is a fair blonde and parted at the right temple with bangs swept in layers to the left to trace along his high hairline past his left temple while his eyebrows are thick, straight, and end in a taper. His straight nose is narrow and button-round while his expressive eyes are thickly lashed and wide beneath his heavy upper eyelids. The young man's full pink lips and piercing blue eyes contrast sharply against his pale peach skin and his narrow jawline and subtle cheeks lend themselves to an air of beauty despite his strong chin.
Mathurin's body is tall and lean, and, though his lithe frame is well-defined thanks to his disciplined upbringing, lacks any definitive muscle mass. Not quite "androgynous", Mathurin may best be described as looking "soft", though he is anything but.
Telling of his priviledged upbringing, Mathurin is devoid of any serious scars or blemishes. His hands, while uneven from use and broken bones, lacks the callouses and weathering of someone who uses them for a living. His time was spent studying and being educated. Even when he was exercising, training, or fighting, it was controlled and guided. This level of pampering shows in his untainted image. It's also reflected in the way he carries himself... from the way he walks to the gestures he makes when he speaks Mathurin clearly oozes pompous self-indulgence.
Personality:
Mathurin may seem your typical military brat. He was raised in a rigid environment of discipline while also pampered as the heir and sole hope his family had at achieving any kind of standing. He is both pompous and arrogant, disdainful, dismissive, and sadistic. This youth has a sharp and calculating mind that is often going a mile a minute.
Rarely is his attention captured fully thanks to his dismissive nature so he generally appears aloof and indifferent. In truth, he has nothing but contempt and rage for most people. Even those that impress him soon shift to an obstacle to be overcome and utterly destroyed. If there is even a hint of good in him it shows in his thoughtfulness; Very socially-aware, Mathurin is quite adept at anticipating the feelings and needs of others. His pragmatic approach and his need to control every detail means that when he has done something cruel it is not because he did not recognize it would hurt you, but rather, that was what he'd desired.
Trust him as far as you throw him. He was born to be a Sith.
Ships/Vehicles:
N/A
Equipment:
Stats:
Strength - Below-Average
Agility - Average
Intelligence - Above-Average
Charisma - Above-Average
Force Stats:
Telekinetic-Unskilled
Telepathic- Unskilled
Body- Unskilled
Sense- Novice
Protection- Unskilled
Healing:– Unskilled
Destruction– Novice
Combat Training:
Echani - Novice
Vibroblade - Novice
Blasters - Novice
Force Training: Untrained
Other Training:
Piloting - Novice
Dejarik - Novice
Lightsaber Training:
Shii-Cho- Untrained
Makashi- Untrained
Soresu- Untrained
Ataru- Untrained
Shien/Djem So- Untrained
>>Sub-form Backhanded- Untrained
Niman- Untrained
>>Sub-form Jar-kai- Untrained
Juyo- Untrained
Double Bladed Combat- Untrained
Biography:
Born as the eldest son to a minor House of standing on the planet Bastion, nobility and status were not only instilled within him since birth but in his very blood. With his status came a life of luxury and preferential treatment, though it was often veiled by the rigors of being prepared for his responsibilities. As heir-apparent of a minor family on the military planet of Bastion it was his duty and obligation, let alone his "destiny" to achieve greatness so that he might elevate his family beyond their meager platform.
As a child he was properly educated in the standards of etiquette, academia, military, and athletics. Like the other children his age he was taught to treat them as rivals and competition rather than comrades or friends. His "peers" were mainly obstacles that spoke, so far as his parents were concerned. It was up to him to vindicate their bloodline, after all! There would be no room for weakness, hesitation, or mediocrity. Thus, he was raised to treat those socioeconomically lower than himself as little more than fodder and thus beyond him as goals that he must (begrudgingly) bow to when necessary.
From the onset his game was the long one. At first, it was by his parents' design, however, the problem in educating one's pawn surfaced in Mathurin was a young teenager. The sharp youth came to understand the despicable and detestable nature of his parents' manipulation. Seeing them as the self-serving leeches living vicariously through him that they were, Mathurin came to despite them. He saw his father as nothing more than a pale imitation of what their legacy was meant to be and felt nothing but contempt for him for placing his hopes of greatness in a child and similarly viewed his mother as a duplicitious witch willing to betray any in her pursuit of wealth, luxury, and standing. When Mathurin's father proved incapable of delivering that future to her she sank her fangs into her son. In response, Mathurin began to use the very same social tactics they'd taught him to blend in and deceive his peers and tutors against his parents themselves!
As a young man he focused more upon his academics and knowledge than his athletics and combat training, though the utilitarian in him recognized them as equally necessary for survival in the galaxy, especially if he were to pursue a path amongst the Imperial Navy, for while the day-to-day navigation ultimately would fall to beauracuracy and politics it would ultimately be built on the blood of his opposition, whether that be in proxy through a military campaign or literally would be their choice. It was also at this stage in his life that his parents began trying to pair him with a girl that could elevate his standing through marriage: Serbera Odollom.
Serbera, like Mathurin, was an absolute viper. Just as intelligent and twice as charming, Serbera knew the game Mathurin's parents played. Her parents played a similar game with another boy their age by the name of Dionosco Steele, whose family had the highest standing among the three. Serbera, though, had no interest in either boy, which worked out just as well since Mathurin and Dionosco were more interested in each other than Serbera. That didn't mean they couldn't play a game of their own, though.
Wanting to be free of his life on Bastion, Dionosco would marry Serbera. At the wedding they would poison all three of their families so that they would inherit their assets. Dionosco and and Mathurin would fake their deaths, with Mathurin leaving his estate to his unrequited love Serbera and Dionosco's becoming Serbera's through marriage. The two would flee Bastion and lay low until Serbera could transfer a portion of their wealth to the two while keeping a portion for herself.
It was a move that would take time to set-up properly and even longer to establish the public presence necessary between them to make it believable. Mathurin, for his part, embraced the image his parents had tried to create for him. To those around him he appeared to be a genuine suitor enamored with Serbera - it wasn't unbelievable, the beauty had plenty of boys seeking her affections - while Serbera and Dionosco would "sneak off", always careful to be spotted by somebody on their way.
So it was. Mathurin spent his time attending his lessons, developing his skills, honing his arts, while Serbera and Dionosco devoted much of their time to their illusion. When the time came the plan was executed flawlessly...or, nearly...
Serbera and Dionosco were legally bound, their marriage consumated with their vows and a kiss, and their reception was beautiful. Music played, children laughed and danced. The staff was hand-picked, including a staffer they could pin the whole scheme on. Dionosco, however, got cold feet. He had actually fallen in love with Serbera through their time together and didn't want to go on the run, abandon his House, or kill his family. The three argued quietly in the kitchen, for they had only a few moments to pull it off. Dionosco was adamant, though. It would not happen.
This, of course, was unacceptable to the other parties involved. Just as Dionosco was about to betray their plan Serbera stabbed him in the heart with a kitchen utensil while ordering Mathurin to poison the punch. Hiding Dionosco, Serbera waited in the shadows of the kitchen while Mathurin made sure the drinks were served to everyone. Mathurin yet had plans of his own. Once his parents had consumed their punch (anyone else that drank it was collateral) he came shouting from the kitchen, warning the others not to drink the punch. Serbera, he warned, was a black widow. With his parents fainting Mathurin "rushed to their aid" and continued his warning, that he had heard her conspiring with the cook to poison the punch. He never got to finish his story, however, as Serbera let out a shrill scream that pierced the night.
The bride stumbled into the main hall coated in her deceased husband's blood while pointing and screaming hysterically. Her accusatory finger would have run Mathurin through had it been any more intense. He killed her husband, she cried. He, the jealous one. It was well-rehearsed, better and more believable than he ever could be. She always was more charming.
When the guards subdued him he felt a boiling rage and fear that had surpassed anything he had ever felt before. It was as if his entire childhood were coming to a head. He felt as if lightning flowed through him and ignited his core. Rage pulsed through him in intense waves that left a buzzing in his ears. He did not have the strength to pull free or to run. He could not wrestle away from them. For all of his training and exercising and knowledge of technique they were better and had leverage and numbers that he could not compete with. The sheer weight of the situation and the paralysis that arose from his inequity bore something from deep within him. Savage and raw, the teenager bellowed. His rage surged through him, and with it came a strength he had never before demonstrated. Not that Mathurin had noticed; He had blacked-out into his frenzy. In this state the youth's pain, fear, and hate were untethered and his call of the Force, though completely untrained, was just enough to give him the edge on the unsuspecting guards. Pulling his arms free, Mathurin yanked his elbow up into the Adam's Apple of the guard to his right before twisting and driving his hand against the throat of the guard to his left. The two of them charged through the hall until the guard's back was against the wall and his feet were off the ground. The scrawny youth had hoisted the guard into the air with his chokehold, and though his arm trembled in fatigue and his shoulder ached he cared not for his safety or health. Self-preservation would empower him here, not restrain him.
Though the remaining guards were taken aback by the sudden surge they regrouped quickly enough and began battering the young man's shoulders and back in an effort to sedate him. One quick-thinking fellow activated the stun capabilities of their prod and jammed it into the side of Mathurin's neck. Stunning electricity flowed through both Mathurin and the helpless guard in his grip, though it was the guard who passed out in a cry of anguish. Mathurin was only dropped to his knees.
He made one effort to stand back up when he was smashed across the back of the head. Darkness seized him after that.
He was in the brig awaiting sentencing and, ultimately, execution, when he was visited by an esteemed guest. He didn't know him by name but had surely seen him around on Bastion before. Even if he hadn't, one look, one breath, one instant in his presence and one would know who stood before them - a Sith. One of their diplomats, but a Sith nonetheless. He stood with his chest puffed and his arms behind his back; It was a regal posture he'd seen many times on Bastion though he wasn't sure he'd even seen anyone believe themselves so much as this Sith before him.
Still feeling rebellious and not particularly caring who it was directed at, Mathurin did what he could to ignore the Sith entirely. Surely, some game was to be had, and Mathurin wanted no part of it. At least, that was what he told himself.
In truth, he wanted someone to understand his position, to feel for his plight, to pity him for falling just short of success. With minimal goading from the Sith Mathurin eventually did tell his tale. In his rage he owned it and confessed whole-heartedly, for, though they called it a crime of passion, by Mathurin's own admission the only passion he'd ever felt was disdain, envy, disgust, and rage. The Sith seemed unimpressed, for surely there were many angsty youths throughout the galaxy who all felt their own hatred was the purest and most righteous, but offered Mathurin a second chance nonetheless. What he'd instigated took vision, drive, discipline. It was borne of a cold-hearted, calculated mind that, while sloppy and unrefined, had potential. Most importantly, Serbera had already liquidated most of the Steele estate and was gone, for now, which meant Mathurin was not just a consolation but a necessity. Sith do not leave empty-handed.
Feeling that, perhaps, everything had happened exactly as it was supposed to, Mathurin took the Sith up on his offer and was released to the custody of the Sith Empire on the condition that he join them as a faithful servant. Seeing no alternative and eager to develop his skills and power, Mathurin agreed and was shipped off to the academy on Korriban to begin his training.
Roleplay Sample:
Mathurin's nostrils flared as he took a sharp inhale through them and assumed the salute of Echani. Across from him stood his partner Dionosco Steele. The two were from the same social circle, though Mathurin occupied the lowest economic (and thus social) rung while Dionosco claimed the highest. To most it was charity that he would even train with Mathurin, the truth of it was just the opposite.
The blonde assumed his ready position out of habit and routine. He was seeing Dionosco but his mind was elsewhere. He had plans - very specific plans - and it was important that both Dionosco and Mathurin played their parts to a T. When their tutor signaled the beginning of the match both teens sprang forward into striking distance. Dionosco was the stronger of the two but Mathurin was quicker, more precise, and more calculating. His moves were more efficient than his opponent's. Thanks to the particular style of Echani Dionosco's strength soon meant little to Mathurin's proper leverage. Within a few moments he had Dionosco's arms behind his back so that his left hand was pinned against the small of his back and his right was pressed against the nape of his neck.
When Dionosco began to complain Mathurin pulled in close and hissed a warning to him,
"Remember, we each have our part to play."
He knew by the sharp inhale and holding of Dionosco's breath that he had him. He could have commanded him to do anything and he would have complied, and soon enough the calculating teenager was apt to do just that.
In due time...
Mathurin waited until the third time their tutor ordered he let Dionosco go before he complied.
"I'm off to see Serbera. Let's hope you and I don't run into each other."
With that he grabbed his jacket and strode out of the training hall.
