Day 40 of Spring, 513 AV - Warfields Sha sat on his toes, his weight place on his heels as he looked about him. He was in the warfields, a labyrinth in which he often found himself in. The clearing he sat in was wet, the sky having let loose its anger upon the city. His hand rested on the hilt of one of his blades, placed in the ground to act as a post to keep his balance as he sat. The rest of which hung by his waist within the cloak that he had pulled tightly about his body. His blue eyes stood out in the mask that covered his face, only those who wished to fight would see him, or those who wished to make allies. Sullen was his mood, wet was his clothing, and boring was the moment. The day had been uneventful for him. His blades were clean, and his clothes were whole without a mark except for that of the rain. No damage done and no damage taken, a poor shape for a day of waiting. |