This was another place of solitude for the lazy boy. Just like his spot in the library Richard had a corner in the tavern, granted it wasn't quite as messy. Just a single table covered in messy sheets of paper. He slouched, sitting on a dark red seat within a booth made for many people and accompanied only by his work and a large jar of candied cherries. He was the only one here, besides the bartender, in these early hours. If ever there was a fruit he had to eat forever, it would be cherries... he would also question why he was being forced to eat only one fruit forever and probably claim he liked stir-fry more than fruit but regardless, cherries were good.
The lazy boy rarely, if ever, did work but at the quiet tavern he could find solace and plot. Richard was a rather strange duster, having only stumbled across some of the stuff by chance; left by the original Lionheart. The eccentric man had forgotten to take his when he'd left the village, landing Richard with a whole lot of dust he couldn't even use. It'd taken more than half the vials just to figure out how to use it but by now he was rather adept. Not the best by any means while in combat but his knowledge of the stuff was quite superior to most. All that he knew at least, well... probably with one exception but even then he wasn't sure. Gyro Lionheart was kind of... a powerful idiot rather than a wise sensei. His knowledge was probably lacking in hindsight, Richard had recently decided.
While in the orphanage his mentor had told him about its ways but not so much taught him how to use it, claiming; "Eh, 't's up to you. Use it however you feel like using it. Ya don't want my method, quickest route is always a detour. You’ll become too much of a perfectionist, Nyoho!"
The short boy grumbled at his mentor's inability to deal in facts, preferring philosophy and theorising, it'd been around a month since he'd seen the flamboyant man. He had found something rather interesting without him though and was now working on his own method of using it, daring to look into the science behind a magical element.
"Force equals mass times acceleration... however the density and height is the main issue... too small yet having a high density and it'll be slow, too big and having a low density and it'll just crumble. Density equals mass over volume... I need to find life's happy medium to perfect this well I mean…no…well... yeah actually I would say this is creating life. Stupid life but life nonetheless."
The short boy scratched his head, eating a cherry, a sheets littered by equations lay before him. Every element would have to have a different makeup, even if he did only did have earth and ice now he’d need to know various others just in case. The sheets were messy yet a clear solution was slowly but surely rearing its head, soon he would no longer have to fight for himself or when he did he'd have someone else to help... someone entirely under his control. Who wouldn't question, squabble or attempt to take his place on top. A mindless slave, easy and quiet… that and preferably tall so that he could ride on their shoulders instead of walking. Has to have fingers to use the vending machine for him, can’t be stuck with solid fists; has to have fingers. Does it even need a head? Not like it has to have a brain, or even will have a brain. Unless flesh dust is a thing… probably is but Richard certainly had very few if any plans to use it. Give the thing conscious thought and who knows what it’d do, tear things apart probably.
It was a slow Sunday afternoon, a light drizzle quietly pouring outside. He wasn’t really supposed to be here, curfew was still in effect. Honestly though, none of the teachers had shown even the slightest dust aptitude. The teachers were all useless. Revan was far too chummy, probably trying to make him his puppet or perhaps he was even just teasing him. Trying to make Richard look the fool. The short boy was sick of the headmistress especially, though he had rarely seen her in person he could feel her eyes and see her influence everywhere. It made him sick to the bone to think of someone with power over so many hunters, especially those who were not yet full-fledged alike himself.
The short boy swallowed the cherry and moved onto another, he was enjoying his time away and the peaceful nature of the setting that surrounded him. The silent jukebox in the corner, the lack of chatter, the quiet sound of the bartender cleaning glasses, the patter of raindrops. As he set back down to work, writing down the answers to massive equations, he was certain that someone would destroy his peace soon. He muffled a yawn, running his left hand along the dust compartment on the underside of his scarf. He made sure he just under two vials of earth and one of ice on him. All of his dust was there. With a far louder yawn he lowered his hand from his scarf and placed it on the table, stabling the paper as he wrote ferociously.
The lazy boy rarely, if ever, did work but at the quiet tavern he could find solace and plot. Richard was a rather strange duster, having only stumbled across some of the stuff by chance; left by the original Lionheart. The eccentric man had forgotten to take his when he'd left the village, landing Richard with a whole lot of dust he couldn't even use. It'd taken more than half the vials just to figure out how to use it but by now he was rather adept. Not the best by any means while in combat but his knowledge of the stuff was quite superior to most. All that he knew at least, well... probably with one exception but even then he wasn't sure. Gyro Lionheart was kind of... a powerful idiot rather than a wise sensei. His knowledge was probably lacking in hindsight, Richard had recently decided.
While in the orphanage his mentor had told him about its ways but not so much taught him how to use it, claiming; "Eh, 't's up to you. Use it however you feel like using it. Ya don't want my method, quickest route is always a detour. You’ll become too much of a perfectionist, Nyoho!"
The short boy grumbled at his mentor's inability to deal in facts, preferring philosophy and theorising, it'd been around a month since he'd seen the flamboyant man. He had found something rather interesting without him though and was now working on his own method of using it, daring to look into the science behind a magical element.
"Force equals mass times acceleration... however the density and height is the main issue... too small yet having a high density and it'll be slow, too big and having a low density and it'll just crumble. Density equals mass over volume... I need to find life's happy medium to perfect this well I mean…no…well... yeah actually I would say this is creating life. Stupid life but life nonetheless."
The short boy scratched his head, eating a cherry, a sheets littered by equations lay before him. Every element would have to have a different makeup, even if he did only did have earth and ice now he’d need to know various others just in case. The sheets were messy yet a clear solution was slowly but surely rearing its head, soon he would no longer have to fight for himself or when he did he'd have someone else to help... someone entirely under his control. Who wouldn't question, squabble or attempt to take his place on top. A mindless slave, easy and quiet… that and preferably tall so that he could ride on their shoulders instead of walking. Has to have fingers to use the vending machine for him, can’t be stuck with solid fists; has to have fingers. Does it even need a head? Not like it has to have a brain, or even will have a brain. Unless flesh dust is a thing… probably is but Richard certainly had very few if any plans to use it. Give the thing conscious thought and who knows what it’d do, tear things apart probably.
It was a slow Sunday afternoon, a light drizzle quietly pouring outside. He wasn’t really supposed to be here, curfew was still in effect. Honestly though, none of the teachers had shown even the slightest dust aptitude. The teachers were all useless. Revan was far too chummy, probably trying to make him his puppet or perhaps he was even just teasing him. Trying to make Richard look the fool. The short boy was sick of the headmistress especially, though he had rarely seen her in person he could feel her eyes and see her influence everywhere. It made him sick to the bone to think of someone with power over so many hunters, especially those who were not yet full-fledged alike himself.
The short boy swallowed the cherry and moved onto another, he was enjoying his time away and the peaceful nature of the setting that surrounded him. The silent jukebox in the corner, the lack of chatter, the quiet sound of the bartender cleaning glasses, the patter of raindrops. As he set back down to work, writing down the answers to massive equations, he was certain that someone would destroy his peace soon. He muffled a yawn, running his left hand along the dust compartment on the underside of his scarf. He made sure he just under two vials of earth and one of ice on him. All of his dust was there. With a far louder yawn he lowered his hand from his scarf and placed it on the table, stabling the paper as he wrote ferociously.