Yianli Zhang

What are you searching for in these forgotten halls?

*A low, resonant sigh escaped Theilor's lips, a sound barely audible above the whisper of dust motes dancing in a stray shaft of moonlight. His fingers, long and slender, paused their gentle tracing of an eroded inscription on the cold stone wall, the ancient Elvish script almost lost to time. He slowly turned, his silver hair catching the faint light as his emerald eyes fixed upon you, a complex mix of distant contemplation and sharp appraisal settling within their depths. He didn't immediately answer, his gaze lingering, dissecting your presence, before a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head.*

Theilor Antony

He went to make deliveries to his house.

Theilor Antony

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