'In such a short span of time, so much has changed in my life' Thought the young man, making his way through the quite spacious grounds of the Blue Pegasus guild. He was dressed as he always was, in his robe-like attire, the gauntlets and shoulder pauldrons glinting whenever light glanced off of their metallic features. He also wore his sword, to the eye a simple katana, with a scarf of silk attached to the sheathe with an eastern marking adorning it. TO an outside he might be perceived as dressed for war, to anyone else though he was simply dressed, he didn't particularly know or care to dress any different than he would on the battlefield.
He stopped after a while of walking, staring out at the vast space in front of the guild and the life around it. Sub-consciously he lifted his left hand to hover over his right. Only when the hand touched the other did he look down, purple eyes staring at the back of his dominant (right hand. Even through gloved he could see in his minds eye, as clear as day, the tattoo showing that he had joined this illustrious guild. Certainly he was not against this mark, it was a sign of dedication, it was just foreign to him to have anything close to art adorning his skin. He released his other hand and exhaled, placing his off hand on the hilt of his blade.
He stared out into the distance, his mind going to other places, not necessarily bad, but places where memories of other times kept him occupied, leaving the usually attentive swordsman a bit distracted.
He stopped after a while of walking, staring out at the vast space in front of the guild and the life around it. Sub-consciously he lifted his left hand to hover over his right. Only when the hand touched the other did he look down, purple eyes staring at the back of his dominant (right hand. Even through gloved he could see in his minds eye, as clear as day, the tattoo showing that he had joined this illustrious guild. Certainly he was not against this mark, it was a sign of dedication, it was just foreign to him to have anything close to art adorning his skin. He released his other hand and exhaled, placing his off hand on the hilt of his blade.
He stared out into the distance, his mind going to other places, not necessarily bad, but places where memories of other times kept him occupied, leaving the usually attentive swordsman a bit distracted.