Tycondrius frowned, casually observing the object of Zenon's admiration.
"...She wears only a brassiere underneath her armor? No tunic?"
"Is that.... peculiar?" Isidor set his face into his well-practiced frown.
Tycon looked up to Zenon, "She'd chafe terribly, traveling in that."
Zenon bared his teeth in a wry grin, "Okay, maybe there's a little... artistic interpretation. In real life, she probably wears a tunic and chain underneath her armor-- but look? She has sculpted abs!"
Tycon and Isidor took a closer look. She did. She looked very strong.
Zenon replaced Asuna's clothes and grabbed another figure from his display shelf, "And this is, without a doubt, my coolest one. Behold! Orcus, god of battle!"
Tycon carefully received the figure, a male in dark armor. He rotated it slowly, so Isidor could also see its details.
Zenon's 'coolest' figure was a shadowy, almost-villainous figure. The Centurion's expression only held awe and worship.
Tycon couldn't make sense of it. He thought the Tyrions far preferred holy-looking white and silver, not dark and brooding. What was the variable? Was Zenon strange? Was Orcus so popular? Or perhaps the stereotype was incorrect...
"I thought..... all Tyrions followed... the Eternal Flaaa...?" Isidor's frown correctly exemplified his confusion.
"It's just a stage na. And it's reaaaally cool." Zenon chuckled, taking the figure back, "He's not actually a god, just a god of battle."
The Centurion was t by the blank stares of both snake-persons.
"I can see how that would be confusing to non-Tyrions," He admitted. "But really, Orcus is a legend in his own league-- a legend at the apex! He's a hero ergent from the storm of war!"
"Are you quite done?" Tycon frowned.
"He's a Champion of the Eternal Fla and one of the greatest heroes of mankind! This guy is sothing else!"
The blank stares continued.
"What... does that eeean?" Isidor asked.
"I think, in the context, it's... a good thing," Tycon suggested.
"What's even cooler--" Zenon continued, "is that the title is passed on from legend to legend. This is the current Orcus-- and I have a total man-crush on him."
Tycon was familiar with the word... crush. It referred to the figurative crushing weight of an unrequited romantic longing for a person. But... a man-crush?
Was there a point to needlessly making such a term masculine? There was nothing wrong with respecting another man's accomplishnts and expressing admiration in their physical beauty. That was what a crush was-- or so he thought. The concept didn't seem pointedly gendered.
Or maybe it ant sothing else, like the difference between figure and miniature? Tycon felt like it would be rude to keep asking, so he ntally filed the information away and nodded to imply that he understood, "I see."
Zenon scoffed, laughing, "Don't worry about it, Optio. It's a very normal thing to have man-crushes on Tyrion heroes. It's not weird, at all."
Tycon narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips into a slight frown, "I'm sorry... what did you just call ?"
Zenon scratched the back of his head while laughing uneasily, "Oh, you know. Optio! Since my rank is technically Centurion, I figure you can be my Optio! It's pretty legit'. It's a real rank! I can do that! (You won't get paid, though.)"
"Taaaaake it, Brother-Tyconnnn," Isidor urged. He placed his hand to his mouth to adjust his frown into an unnatural smile, baring his pointed crocodile teeth.
Sure, why not. What could it hurt?
Tycon forced a smile and offered his arm, "Of course, Centurion. You are more than worthy of my loyalty."
He and Zenon clasped wrists and shook. The affirmation of friendship brought a heart-warming smile to the tall, mustachioed Librarian's face. Tycon found a comfortable feeling welling in his chest, as well.
"Yeah..." Zenon nodded, tapping a closed fist to his armored chest, "It feels pretty nice being a senior leader."
Huh. Concerning that... to judge Zenon by his youthful face, he appeared to be in the early stage of human adulthood. Tycon did not know the exact age of his body, but as he was an adult with the dusa bloodline, he was definitely older than 100. This didn't include the one or more lives Tycon had transmigrated through.
But, in order to protect his friend's smile, he decided not to correct him with such unnecessary information.
"And when you return ho, Brother-Isidor, you can tell your buddies that you're an honorary Duplicarius," Zenon offered.
"Yesssss... I climb... the ranksssss," Isidor nodded his head. "The othersss will be jealousssss...."
Tycon's mouth twitched. He had a sudden ominous feeling that various mbers of the mountain factions might seek them out, asking for human-granted military ranks. The Krakhamrs... the Darkfeathers... the... the Fierce Knight.
He decided not to inform Isidor of where exactly he and Zenon would be headed to.
...
The Holy Country spanned a large amount of coast on the western continent. Because of it, their seafood cuisine was the most developed in the Realm, arguably the best. Arriving in the coastal city of Silva, Tycon looked forward to a al: a nice, large, aty fresh fish. Fried? Grilled, perhaps? Oooh... braised.
The scent of the sea reminded him of his ti in the Kingdom at port cities Caractere and Saint Guinefort. Though this ti, he was thankful that he had yet to run into any pirates with quirky personalities.
Instead of a regenerating, rip-and-tear Sea Wolf, Tycon had a... Librarian. What kind of class was Librarian, anyroad? Because Zenon was a Sanctified Psyker, it ant he was a Divine or Arcane class, capable of magic. But Librarian was... not in Tycon's purview of class knowledge...
He didn't ask.
They were certain to get into trouble eventually-- a skirmish with a group of rogues, adventurers... adventuring rogues or rogue-adventurers. He'd find out, then.
Tycon had a very brief glimpse of... what he thought might be cruelty in the Centurion's easy-going personality. He looked forward to seeing more of it. Perhaps he could harness it-- utilize it as a weapon. Zenon could only grow stronger, because of it.
"Wwwwwwelco to the City of Silva, travelers!!"
Tycon grimaced at the voice's owner, quickly approaching.
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