strengthprevails
The breeze had long been a comfort in the stride across the land to the dishonored. It bellowed along trees and the emptiness to whisper out to those who would listen where they belonged. Where he would find retribution against the sins another would atone for. His blade had long been strewn with blood of those who would seek falsehood in justice. Innocent men and women following orders. Never a matter of pride nor glory drove them to his side.
Yet it was as true as his brother had taught him. The wind followed at one's back and it could cut deep if one wasn't paying attention. In his travels on the peak of the rising sun, he would crawl into a small abode to refill his flask of drink and for food that had not been cut out of a pond or the forests.
Chatting with the bartender in order to refill his flask and to get his own cup for his time remaining here, the attention would turn to an ivory-haired woman. Something about her didn't sit with the atmosphere of the regulars clamoring the hall. The sense of a drifter filled about, keeping to herself than engage in social banter like those around.
༄ A ghost sitting among the living. Not wanting to be found. Kin.
He leans up from the bar, and shifts through patrons to sit across from her, holding a cup of sake in extension. "Drink for a stranger's thoughts. I find the mind clears of its fog when it partakes of vice."