He pulled down his hood and sat back tired but thankful to be in a actual place that would accept him. His light blue eyes and dark blonde hair appeared from the gloom of the hood. he again took a drink from his canteen. Hoping to actually talk to someone now that he showed his face.(which was not a regular occurance when in strange territory)
This was a new place to him. he was from the far north, and travelling when the mood took him. He took off a weird glove from his right hand and massaged his fingers. It hurt to have the glove on but at least it helped to cover the scar and stopped people from asking questions.
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My anger is inspiration and pain fury and bane, something nobody can understand about me.
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