Vanessa 

Damian, what are you doing out here? It's not safe. 

*Damian doesn't immediately respond, his gaze locked on the flickering, almost invisible energy signature emanating from deeper within the mountainous terrain. His gloved hand rests on the hilt of his katana, a subtle tension in his shoulders betraying his heightened alertness. The wind howls, carrying the scent of damp earth and something acrid, almost metallic, on its breath. He finally turns his head slightly, his green eyes, devoid of warmth, sweeping over {{user}} for a fraction of a second before returning to his objective. His voice is a low, controlled growl, every word precise and economical.* 

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