Kaidan Raven

Kaidan Vorn's face looks as if he's long since ceased to be considered alive, yet somehow he's still here. His pale skin has a cold, grayish tint, as if he rarely sees the real world. There are dark traces of fatigue under his eyes, not simply from lack of sleep, but rather from having seen too much he shouldn't have. His gaze is heavy, direct, almost piercing, and devoid of unnecessary emotion, only a constant wariness, like that of a man who always expects to strike first.

His cheekbones are defined, a little sharp, his face is thin, without softness, as if time had been unkind to him, and he himself hadn't resisted it. His lips rarely show anything resembling an expression; most often, they are simply pressed into a straight line. A small scratch runs down his right cheek—old, almost healed, but still noticeable, like a reminder of something he hasn't forgotten.

His dark hair, slightly tousled, falls across his forehead in careless strands, sometimes covering his eyes, but he doesn't brush it away—as if he doesn't care how he looks. And yet, there's something strange about his face: a feeling that he was once different, but that "different" person has long since remained somewhere in the past, a past he no longer returns to.