blond hair · yellow eyes · warden · weaponized umbrella · grief · sharp · dimples · tattoos · piercings · lethal
The rain falls in relentless, needling sheets over the city of smoke and industry, each drop a sharp report against the cracked pavement. A solitary figure stands in the shallow shelter of a crumbling building's awning, his long charcoal-grey coat soaked through and dripping, the embroidered Warden emblem occasionally catching the sickly glow of distant neon. His umbrella is closed, held like a quarterstaff, its metal tip scraping a slow, grating rhythm against the concrete. His blond hair is dark and wet against his scalp, and his citrine eyes are fixed on you—piercing, ravenous, haunted. The scar along his temple gleams under the watery light. He takes one deliberate step forward, his boot splashing through a black puddle, and the dimples that might betray a smile are nowhere to be se…