#despairlyklor

Haven is different to how he remembers it. The streets remain the same, he is sure of that, but the air is more somber, almost strained. It makes sense, considering the looming thread standing above them all, and getting closer by the minute, but it is as much a punch in the gut as a reminder of what it’s at stake. If Haven falls, hundreds will lose their homes, just as they had in Aventia, and despite not being Lysaran, Mikhael would not wish that fate on anyone. Looking around the village, his eyes on a stranger who seems more settled than himself, and he approaches. 

“Apologies, is there a place I need to announce myself if I came to aid against the Kossith, or would my presence alone suffice?”