Forthcoming.
Forthcoming.
Amidst the lithe shadows of the night this man would not be out of place, for his features and his flesh are dark and exotic, bristling with an air of danger now at its ease, leashed but lightly. His face is smoothly shaven, bearing nothing to mar the swarthy, silken skin matched by the lustrous coal-black hair that falls in heavy ringlets and waves past his shoulders and the soft lips that hint of mercurial humor and strange bitterness, a glimpse behind his masks and shadows. His eyes are surprising, for where all the rest of him says midnight, they speak of the morning, a blue clear as the far-horizoned oceans after the sun has risen. From straight nose to the easy lines of high cheeks, there is something foreign to him, something that speaks of other lands and other seas; perhaps it is the grace of his bearing, the elegance that poorly hides that his slender, calloused hands are made to hold a sword hilt, that his honed body knows a deadlier dance than that of any court.
Forthcoming.
Forthcoming.