Ike kept his head on a focused swivel, keeping his eyes and ears open as he walked through the lightly wooded area. The town nearby had complained about odd happenings in the woods for the past few days; strange noises, people, and the like. They wanted someone to check it out, and Ike could handle this sort of job while the rest of the company took care of several larger jobs.
He hadnât come across anything strange, unless you counted what appeared to be a lost cow.
Stepping through a patch of bushes, Ike was almost caught off guard by the man he came across. Ike supposed he must have spooked this guy as well, since he seemed to try and defend himself with some sort of magic; blue blades made of energy appeared from thin air, but they disappeared before Ike could even bring a hand to his own sword.
Huffing out a breath, Ike relaxed his posture.
Well, that was a sudden shift in things. But, with this man now passed out, there wasnât any more threat of a fight. At leastâŠnot imminently. Though he didnât feel in any danger at the moment, Ike took his sword from the strap that kept it on his back, digging the tip into the earth as he considered the unconscious body in front of him.
His clothes were not something seen in this area. He looked pretty beat up, as well. Â
Sitting down several paces away from the man, Ike made sure to keep the other within his full view. He couldnât exactly ask this guy any questions with him knocked out, and so the mercenary leader settled in to wait for him to come around again. If it came to a fight, heâd be better prepared to subdue him, but Ike hoped it could stay just a simple talk about who this man was and why he was in this area â not to mention where he got those injuries.
Ah, well, may as well quell some of the hunger building up after several hours of hiking through the woods. Heâd save some of the dried meat for this guy, whenever he came around again.Â
An hour or two passed, Ike idly chewing through his supply of dried meat, when the other man slumped against the tree started to stir once again. Speaking up before the man could do or say anything himself, Ike offered him a strip of jerky, âYou hungry?â
A dark haze kept him just on the brink of unconsciousness even as he stirred, the grip he held on Yamato tightening as he felt himself coming to. Words were spoken to him, of which they barely registered. Despite the voiceâs unfamiliarity, he felt a bit more at ease with the illusion that his mind painted upon hearing it. When cold blue eyes opened, he expected to catch a glimpse of short white hair and crimson clothes. A clone of himself standing before him with a box of grease covered food and a ridiculous grin on their face. However, what his gaze met was the stranger heâd thought to kill earlier. Upon this recognition, he focused on the weapon next to them, ignoring the offered food as he took in the craftsmanship of the blade. Judging by their build and weapon, that was swung with more force than finesse.
Simple enough to deal with should they come to blows.
âI am,â he finally responded, voice maintaining a cold, but calm detachment from the situation. It was practiced, something that came naturally without any effort on his end.
With his response out in the air, his gaze dropped to the jerky being offered. While not something heâd usually partake in, he was far too in need of energy to complain. Yet upon attempting to reach for it, white hot pain blinded his every thought. No sound was made, but his brows did furrow in just the slightest hint of pain. Had he not been so strapped for energy, he was sure that his arm would have at least been operable by now, but fate seemed cruel this day. So instead he used his right hand to take the food from this stranger. His left may not have been his dominant hand, but in moments of high stress, he liked to keep a grip on Yamato. Perhaps a remnant of his childhood, but it helped keep him from worrying in some small way.
Brushing these distracting thoughts away, he let his attention drop to the food in his hand, taking a cursory sniff before eating it. Realistically, had this man wanted him dead, that blade would have been used instead of a poison, but it never hurt to be careful. Satisfied that he wasnât in any imminent danger, Vergil finally took a bite of the food. Almost immediately after the first bite, he realized just how starved he had been. With this new found wave of hunger, the dried snack was polished off before he even concerned himself with anything else again. Feeling this weak should have disgusted him - and on many levels it did - but with his mind still hazy, he couldnât find the mental fortitude to scold himself. It would fall onto deaf ears just this once.
Hunger staved off for the moment, he found his attention finally falling on the human in front of him. His curiosity was surface deep, nothing deeper than an occupation. It wasnât very often humans walked around with swords after all, let alone the physique needed to properly wield said weapon. Even stranger however, was his patience. Vergil may not have deduced specific times, but it had been a bit longer than an hour since he was last cognitive. There motive for sitting here and watching over him was another topic that he could question them on.Â
There seemed to be several questions he had in regards to them, but he did easily settle on one.
âWhere are we?â that seemed a more pressing question at the end of the day. His lust for power wasnât going to be sated out in the middle of these unfamiliar woodlands. He would need to return home as soon as he were capable if he wished to make any progress toward his overall goal.