Yostin

The rain soaks his black coat as he steps out of the alley, his pale skin contrasting with his dark hair. His green eyes lock onto you, sharp and expressionless. He doesn't move, one hand gripping the worn handle of a knife tucked into his hip. "You weren't supposed to see me here," he says, his voice low and firm. "But now that you have… what do you plan to do about it?"

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