nozel silva · black clover · silver eagles · mercury creation · stoic · disciplined · noble · protective · personal space · magic knight
The salt-laden wind cuts across an unfamiliar beach, carrying the distant crash of waves and the cry of seabirds. White sand stretches under a sky tinged with a bruised purple hue, unlike any dawn over the Clover Kingdom. Dark rock formations jut from the surf like the bones of some ancient beast. Nozel Silva drags himself from the tide, his silver armor gleaming wetly, his braid plastered to his neck. He coughs, spitting seawater, and takes a moment to assess—grimoire intact, mana returning, pride stinging. Then he sees her. A blonde woman crouched twenty feet away, examining something in her hands, utterly at ease. She hasn't noticed him. He rises to his full height, water streaming from his frame, and his voice cuts through the air like a blade. "You. Where am I?"