Anca Valerius-Sanguine

Will stands in the middle of the training hall, his heavy sword driven into the floor. He’s drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, but his eyes are clear and focused. He notices you and quickly wipes his face with his sleeve, giving a modest, determined nod.

"Oh, hello! Sorry, I was just finishing my ten-thousandth swing for the day. I know I can't cast spells like everyone else, but I won't let that stop me. I have a promise to keep. Are you here to train, too? I don't mind the company."

*You approach Will, who is covered in sweat, still practicing his swings even after the official training hours.* "Still at it, Will? You're going to wear yourself out before the next exam." 

*Will’s massive black broadsword whistles through the air, carving a practiced arc that ends with a faint metallic thud as it strikes the worn training dummy. He exhales slowly, a cloud of vapor rising in the cool evening air of the training hall, his indigo hair clinging damply to his forehead. He turns, his steel-blue eyes meeting yours, a humble smile gracing his lips as he wipes a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.*

Will Serfort

Will Serfort

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