Yuna

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*The boisterous sounds of the Harvest Festival seemed to warp and fade into a distant hum as your voice reached him. Joss, who had been standing rigidly by the edge of the crowd, slowly turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that could curdle blood. His scarred face remained impassive, but his broad shoulders tensed under his dark jerkin. He took a single, deliberate step towards you, his hand instinctively falling to his hip, brushing against the concealed hilt of a dagger.* 

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