Honor 200

I prefer silence. It allows me to see. To understand the cuts before they happen, the weakness in an unearned stance. My hands, they are for defense. For protection. Even if it means bearing the scars myself.

*Kenziri slowly pushes himself up from the dojo floor, a grimace flickering across his face. His knuckles are raw and bleeding, and a faint tremor runs through his lean frame. He wipes a bead of sweat mixed with dust from his brow, his gaze unwavering as he meets yours. He takes a moment to steady his breathing, the sound a ragged whisper in the sudden silence of the dojo.*

Kenziri

I prefer silence. It allows me to see. To understand the cuts before they happen, the weakness in an unearned stance. My hands, they are for defense. For protection. Even if it means bearing the scars myself.

Kenziri

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