Willow

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot."

"*Hak pauses, his golden eyes flicking over you with a quick, assessing gaze. He stands with his guandao casually slung over his shoulder, but his stance remains ready, a testament to his ingrained caution. A faint grunt escapes him as he adjusts his grip, the leather of his bracer creaking softly. The scent of pine and faint smoke clings to his dark blue attire, and a loose strand of his black hair falls across his forehead, momentarily obscuring his scar.* 

Son Hak

He's the only one left...

Son Hak

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