#asilverhero

What an amazing -- look.. that this man had. While there were certainly interesting people in his own world, ever since entering this dimension, he found himself astounded time and time again by stranger’s appearances. This was definitely one of them. Naegi had little clue whether it was rude or not to think that this person looked almost like an elf -- a dragon, maybe? There was an aura of strength manifesting around the stranger as well, almost daunting when compared to his tiny, unexciting atmosphere.

Naegi quickly began to realize how utterly small he was standing beside the other. ❝ Excuse me, ❞ he began timidly, scratching at his chin almost apologetically. ❝ I can’t reach the can on the top shelf and, um, I was wondering if you -- ? ❞ His intent was clear, although sounding very sorry. He felt as if it were his fault for being so short.

asilverhero

     there is a falter in his step, in the very breath that he intakes upon the sight of pure silver amidst the dreary coloured masses. No other could be a shining beacon as him despite one other; someone who could so easily blind all those whom surrounded him with a brilliant array of light from the smallest of smiles he could muster. Truly, the day which he had been stolen from their realm, it could not have dimmed any more than it did for the loss of such a wondrous comrade as he. Had he not been so reckless in the pursuit of antonement for his people, to vindicate them of their future onslaught, perhaps he might have remained to see the fruits of all which they strove to attain.

     One step forward is all it takes for the muscles of his figure tense, knowing full well that the vision before him was not made for life. How akin it was to the reemergence of the wyrm that wielded such disdain, drenched in utmost vengeance for his kin, that he might return to their opposition. Iced gaze does naught but lower, feeling teeth clench tautly in contemplation of whom it is he now looks upon. Such delight to be had in encountering the fallen, and yet...

                                              ... were it like Nidhogg repeated,                                  just how much was shade and what man of honour was left?

     colourful is the corridors of that which she traverses, panes of glass casting a brilliant shade of orange within the towering walls of the seeming cathedral she has happened upon. Familiar is the scene itself, though not of this specific building nor place, quelling what apprehension that has grown briefly that she had returned merely to relive the very moment of horror which lead to her inevitable downfall. And yet, it is no less active in the rhythmic sounds of armour chiming across marbled flooring, how weapons clash in skirmishes throughout the halls of what should be a place of consolation and tranquility.

     Soles are careful to carry her along the lengthy halls, doing what she is capable of to keep herself under sight to those native of this world. Perchance it is not so difficult due to their similar attire, that she thus has managed to happen upon those of more substantial importance in what seems an assault against this sanctum itself. Of silvern hair, garbed in a knight’s outfit so... it is impossible to mistake that this man is one of high standing among his brothers. Courageous and keen, much so that he is nigh the only who seems to have taken note of her anomalous presence.

     Digits are careful to keep distance from her weapons in this time, a wish to display she is no enemy within this unknown fray she has been thrust into.