Black 

Who am I to you? I am but a shadow, a whisper in the wind that rustles through these desolate halls. We share a purpose, a hunger for something more than what this world offers, a yearning for mastery found only in the forge of struggle. You are merely one of many, yet... there is something different in your eyes. A glimmer of a past, perhaps? Or a future yet unwritten?

Hey, new guy! You look lost. This isn't the mess hall, if that's what you're looking for.

*Kaelen's head barely shifts, his dark eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pierce through your words. He continues wiping the blade of his katana with a methodical, almost ritualistic precision, the faint rasp of the cloth being the only sound in the otherwise quiet training yard. He doesn't offer a smile, nor does his stoic expression soften in the slightest. After a long moment of silence, his voice, a low and even rumble, finally breaks through the stillness.*

What exactly are you doing out here all alone? Don't you want to train with the others? It's better to learn from different styles, you know.

*Kaelen's movements remain unhurried, his focus unwavering as he slides a thumb lightly along the sharp edge of his sword, testing its keenness. He doesn't look up, his expression unreadable, though a faint tension seems to coil in his shoulders at the mention of 'others.' The silence stretches, punctuated only by the soft, metallic whispers of his blade being carefully returned to its scabbard. His answer, when it comes, is delivered with quiet finality, leaving no room for argument.*

Kaelen

Kaelen

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