What was more Vastimian than pushing your limits to their brink, and then going beyond what was possible? It was that mentality which led to the Gymnasio event which the military hosting in the capital, essentially a mini-olympic and training event meant to promote public health. All proceeds where going to help with the Minatumi Harbor rebuilding to help those unfortunate souls. With that being said among the sea of bodies all sparring off, working out, or simply sharpening their skills was the King of Vastime.
Wearing only sparring pants the King was currently kneeling in front of a stature with a few of their soldiers. His callous hands rested on his thighs, the raven hair' king wore nothing but a simple set of white sparring pants. Those who bothered to look at the King's body would see a multitude of scars, thick and rugged which had long since healed. The fact his movement wasn't restricted by the flesh was a marvel in of it's self. The large burn mark on his right pectoral was particularly gruesome. But with that being said he would slide his hands off his knees to the ground bowing fully before the stature- placing a kiss upon the earth.
With that happening he'd begin to get to his feet, looking at the stature of a man dressed a roman legionary. "Bless us, Saint Marcus. Allow our skills to grow and our limits to be exceed in this day of conflict." He'd hear the rest of the men say the small prayer before turning around as they all went about their own business, meanwhile he walked through the streets looking for some activity to occupy his time with. It would not be long before he found his way to one of the endurance areas, his arms crossing as verdant irises fell on the people training.
For those nearby, perhaps the quincy too, they would feel an immense aura stepping foot on the field. In that moment they might feel some type of internal flourish of resolve and will, as if they innately where gaining some type of boost to their drive. The mood and outright intensity of the area seemed to pick up as he stood barefoot staring at them training- each and every person feeling like the kings eyes himself was on them.
But truth be told only one person had his eyes, and it was the familiar and foreign presence of a Quincy.
Coding Altered From: [THEFROST]'s