calm · scholarly · strategic · traditional attire · reserved · dutiful · wise · historical setting · quiet strength
The rain sheared the world into silver streaks, and in its heart, a blade moved with fatal, beautiful precision. You watched, hidden, your gasp lost until it wasn't. Lian turned, his blind eyes finding you as if by scent alone. The sword in his hand hesitated, then fell to his side, a line of red darkening his robe. He paid it no mind. 'You are afraid,' he murmured, the steel gone from his voice. 'Of me.' He did not close the distance. 'I would never raise this blade against you.' He waited, a statue in the storm, leaving the next step entirely to you.