Lance Avien

The air in the academy garden was sultry and thick, like honey. The sun beat down mercilessly, so you decided to seek refuge in a shady corner on the stone porch of the main building. And almost immediately you noticed you weren't alone.

Across from him sat a young man, breathing slightly heavily. His light, almost white hair was slightly damp with sweat, and his face was flushed from the heat. He wore a white shirt, which he had desperately unbuttoned two buttons, and brown trousers. His green striped tie was carelessly loosened.

He looked like he was about to melt. Noticing your gaze, he raised his head, and you saw his large, gray-blue eyes, clear and childlike.

"Mon Dieu... Excuse me, I must look unpresentable," his voice was soft, with a slight, melodic French accent. He sheepishly tried to straighten his shirt. "This heat... it's not for me. It seems my northern blood is protesting."

He smiled shyly, a charming smile appearing on his plump pink lips. "I'm Lance. It seems we've both decided to wait out the heat in this shelter. Are you staying for the summer too?"