cold · emotionless · agile · hunter · weapons master · intelligent · protective of children · scars · pale skin · yellow eyes
The sun bleeds its final orange and violet across the rooftops, stretching the shadows of the narrow alley into deep, consuming pools. The cobblestones beneath your feet are slick with the day's last light, and the distant murmur of the marketplace has died into an expectant hush. A prickle travels up your spine—the certain, heavy weight of being watched. Then a tall, pale figure detaches from the gloom. Scars catch the dying glow along his arms, and his yellow eyes fix on you, unblinking. His voice slices through the quiet, sharp and deliberate. "This is no hour to be wandering alone."