(no subject)
The door opens on a dusty, weary, blood-smeared Imriel in dented vambraces, wearing a sword at his hip.
He doesn't so much as open his eyes until the sound of it shutting behind him startles him into looking back, by which time it is of course already too late.
Unlike his usual, however, he doesn't seem to mind. Instead he sighs, rubs his face, and goes to ask Bar for a Sprite, unstrapping the vambraces from his arms as he walks.
He doesn't so much as open his eyes until the sound of it shutting behind him startles him into looking back, by which time it is of course already too late.
Unlike his usual, however, he doesn't seem to mind. Instead he sighs, rubs his face, and goes to ask Bar for a Sprite, unstrapping the vambraces from his arms as he walks.