After he had finished eating, Prometheus watched as Emory picked up the plate, having told him that he was welcome to the food. More and more he was getting the feeling that she wasn't very adept at the Elvish language, as she kept making mistakes in her speech. Like when he'd introduced himself, telling her his name and confirming hers, she mixed up the words slightly, making it sound a bit off. But that was okay, as he'd understood what she was trying to get across. However, when she kept switching back to her own language, he would have absolutely no clue as to what she was saying to him, and every time she did, he just stared at her, with a blank expression in his eyes.<br/><br/>She leaves the room, taking the dishes to where Prometheus assumed was the same room as where she'd gotten them, and when she had returned they were no longer with her. He was quiet, waiting for her to make the next move, and when she did she mentions his swords. At that, his eyes get a bright look to them and nods. He wasn't quite sure what she meant by 'take him', but if it had anything to do with where his weapons were located, he would go with her to them. Nodding, he gives her a firm look, his eyes aglow with persistence as he began to speak, his voice urgent. "Mime swaerds. Swaeords. Taken me ana tien. Ni maure tien. Mime swaerds."<br/><br/>Once again she spoke that strange language of her, before making the same gesture she had before while telling him to hold on. How long must he wait to get back what was his? He gets an irritated look in his eyes but remains where he was nonetheless, wondering what she had to do in order for them to go and retrieve his weapons. Without them, he felt bare, naked. Although he had the capability to use fire as an attack and a form of defense as well, his words were his main choice of weapon. Truly, this was how it was for any of the Elven kind. Whilst they all had forms of abilities other than the physical weapon, most chose to use this as a second measure if for some reason they could not use their swords, knives, or what else they had.<br/><br/>As he waited, he stood from the seat, wanting her to hurry. Prometheus knew that it was her home, that she was the host, but he was in a rushed set of mind at that moment. All he could think about was the retrieval of his swords. So, when she finally came back bearing what looked to be clothing, he watches her. Of course, she was being careful, and for this he was grateful. He still wasn't sure what her plans were, what she was thinking of doing. Eying the clothing as she pushed it towards him on the table, she gestures towards them, asking if he would change. Though he was taken aback slightly, he hesitantly reached for what she'd brought to him, the feeling of the cloth odd on his skin, unlike any that he'd ever felt before.<br/><br/>Glancing at the area she pointed to, saying that he could change in it, he glances at her, to the room, and back again, before slowly making his way to it, though the entire time he made sure he had both eyes on her as he did. Once he reached the room and stepped inside, he quickly closed the door behind himself, closing him off from her. Inside, he took a moment to look at what was within the smaller room. A strange couple of contraptions indeed, one seemed to be a hollowed out large basin of sorts, and there was a smaller version of this but higher up. Curved pieces of metal protruded from both, and he couldn't help but wonder what they were. A surface much like a frozen lake was placed above the smaller basin, and Prometheus could see himself looking back. Was it a magic mirror of sorts? Reaching out, he taps it, but nothing happens. No...it wasn't magic.<br/><br/>Then, he touches one of the knobs that was set on either side of the spouts, poking it cautiously at first. It doesn't move, so he grasps onto it firmly, wondering what would happen if he turned it. His eyes widen as, when he turned the knob, water began to pour out from the spot and into the basin, where it quickly disappeared down the hole that was set at the bottom. Quickly he turns it off, scratching the side of his head. This place sure was odd...But for now, he needed to stop getting distracted by the things in the room, and get changed.<br/><br/>Pulling off his armor, he sets it to the side, revealing a perfectly chiseled torso. He was thin, but it was obvious he was physically fit by the subtle muscle that could be seen rippling over his abs and stomach. First, he pulls the pants up onto himself, feeling weird, as he'd never worn this sort of fabric before. It felt itchy and rough, but at least he knew what to do with it. Thankfully the zipper was already up, or else he wouldn't have known what the hell to do. Next came the shirt, colored in red, and he pulls it on. Like the pants, the fabric felt strange on his skin. He pushed the long sleeves up to his elbows, rolling them in a fashion so they didn't fall down again. It wasn't what he was used to, the slightly warm surface of his armor against his bare chest. But if he was to get his swords back, he would do or where whatever was needed. However, there was the slight problem of not knowing how to close the front of the shirt, which hung open, showing off his chest. He'd tried to get the small buttons to close, but failed after a few tries, giving up for now.<br/><br/>Deciding he would deal with that in a moment, he rewraps his scarf around his neck, thinking that it wouldn't be a problem, and even if it was...his scarf was one thing he refused to get rid of. The last thing was what looked like shoes...but he wasn't sure. The design was odd, nothing, of course, like he'd ever seen before. So, he picks them up and exits the bathroom. Everything was changed, and he looked slightly different than before. He kept his earrings in, as well as the scarf around his neck, but other than that, his clothing was completely changed. She was waiting for him in the bigger room, and he looks to her.<br/><br/>Holding out the shoes, he gestures towards her in a questioning manner. "Mana are sí?" He wanted to know what they were for, what he was supposed to do with them. And, even though he didn't trust her yet, she was probably knowledgeable in this sort of thing, as she was the one who had given them to him in the first place. Like before, he has yet again an urgent, persistent expression on his face. His eyes, bright with an energy that could only be described as a fiery passion, he gazed upon her in a manner that many would shiver at. Deep,<br/>emerald green, and extremely intense, his face was the very definition of 'handsome.' However, Prometheus was oblivious to all of this as he waited for Emory to make some sort of reaction to him.<br/><br/><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-style: italic">My swords. Swords. Take me to them. I need them. My swords.<br/><br/>What are these?</span></span>