The Nonexistent Tazz

Seymore, in his own opinion, was not antisocial. He pretty much knew, quite well, almost everyone in his hometown; they were too tight-knit for it to not be so. Seymore also had near-zero experience in dealing with people this... Colorful. But he has to learn, does he not? These are his coworkers, like it or not. He looked towards the unfamiliar man in the eye-patch, keeping his cool at a remove from the others. He at least does not look like the type to... Overwhelm him, as the purple-haired madwoman did naught but a moment ago. It was helpful that he was distanced from the others, so Seymore can himself give some much-needed distance from the colorful personalities in the middle. He walks up to the man and put his spare hand onto the garden wall, leaning against it. "Uh, howdy. You're here for the first meetin' of the Allied Guard, right?"

Between the sassy armored brunette, the boastful 'Invoker,' the ditzy 'butterfly' robed person, and the flirtatious purple-haired newcomer, Seymore feels alienated. The whole experience is weird and out-of-place for a military unit, in Seymore's eyes. Seymore started to wonder if this 'Allied Guard' position is intended to be as glamorous and important as his instructor made it out to be. Certainly, when he joined the army, he had no inclination to believe he would be working with such eccentric people-but here he is. The black-armored fellow almost felt normal and composed, compared to the rest, but Seymore does not approach anyone. Seymore takes a deep breath and brushes a hand through his grass-green hair. This just can't be as bad as it looks, can it? The combined forces of the Calissian Army and the Dragon Knights could not possibly have picked the most unqualified individuals to represent the face of their allegiance, right? Almost as an afterthought, responding to someone else-"I hope we can be friends!"-Seymore spoke, looking at no-one other than his boots. "I just hope we don't ruin this..."

Seymore taps his left hand on his own leg out of nerves, his right arm preoccupied with his hatchet. From the sleepy hamlet known as the Great Forest Village, the city of Antei was as far removed from his way of living as he knows it, and a continent away. The garden is somewhat removed from the noise, but not totally. It is beautiful, though, but after an hour or so of absorbing the sights of the beautiful flowers and with an important meeting to begin, Seymore could not concentrate on it for long. Seymore had every right to be nervous, or at least, he thought so to himself. He did wish to enlist in the army, a factor he made perfectly clear to his adopted father. He'd see the world, help his fellow countrymen live in harmony, and perhaps honor the apparent legacy of his proper parents, whoever they were, and his father was perfectly supporting, as was most of the village. He did not, however, expect to immediately be assigned to an entirely new unit, one that was stressed to him as being of 'immense political importance' (he doesn't even know what a 'political' is!), and be done so with only the most basic of training and gear. His hatchet felt very different to swing than the woodcutting axe he familiarized himself with, and the feeling of chainmail between two pieces of cloth is downright alien. The abrupt appearance of the 'Invoker of Mayhem' to the field, boasting and all, definitely got his gawking. Just not the awestruck kind. This guy's behavior feels ridiculous for something as serious as this 'Allied Guard' was made out to be by Seymore's instructor. Ultimately, however, he couldn't bring himself to vocalize the confusion, and just resumed staring straight on at a pile of pretty roses, tapping his left leg, trying his best to collect himself.