RhysTheFirebird
AFK, Online Detox for a few weeks
- Local Time:
- 11:23 AM
- Joined:
- Dec 15, 2023
- Posts:
- 6,777
@Kasumi
@Knight_of_None
Cyris stares up at the walls of the school, amber eyes narrowed on the columns of stone. While an old building, it had an air of timelessness, one that made Cyris remeber his home. A pair of sun glasses perched on his nose, shielding his unusual eyes from view, he walks forward, bag strapped across his chest and hanging at his hip. Last month, it was vacation in the Philippines. This month, it was the assassination of a professor. Maybe next month is would be torture.
He shakes his head, combing his hair from his face as he leans forward on the balls of his feet, graceful, light, and elegant. He takes a step forward, shouldering his way through the doors of the collage hall, the Fine Arts Hall. He peers around, noting a few glass cases with awards, a wall of faces. A typical school setting and vibe.
A few students milled about, all quiet and waiting the minutes before their class started. Cyris had chosen the afternoon class, meaning he had a few hours before his own class started. Enough time for him to explore, maybe meet people who could give him more information.
@Knight_of_None
Name: Cyris Fiolyn
Age: 22
Sex/Gender: Male He/Him
Description: Cyris has auburn hair that contrasts with his pale skin, and striking amber eyes that seem to burn with intensity, though he rarely show emotion. His lean, strong build speaks of years of physical training, while his back is marked by deep scars, hinting at a past filled with violence and hardship. As an assassin, Cyris is known for his perfect aim and formidable combat skills, moving with precision and grace. Cold and detached, he maintains a distant, unreadable demeanor, only focused on hus mission. Emotions seem like an afterthought, hidden behind a mask of cold professionalism.
Age: 22
Sex/Gender: Male He/Him
Description: Cyris has auburn hair that contrasts with his pale skin, and striking amber eyes that seem to burn with intensity, though he rarely show emotion. His lean, strong build speaks of years of physical training, while his back is marked by deep scars, hinting at a past filled with violence and hardship. As an assassin, Cyris is known for his perfect aim and formidable combat skills, moving with precision and grace. Cold and detached, he maintains a distant, unreadable demeanor, only focused on hus mission. Emotions seem like an afterthought, hidden behind a mask of cold professionalism.
Cyris stares up at the walls of the school, amber eyes narrowed on the columns of stone. While an old building, it had an air of timelessness, one that made Cyris remeber his home. A pair of sun glasses perched on his nose, shielding his unusual eyes from view, he walks forward, bag strapped across his chest and hanging at his hip. Last month, it was vacation in the Philippines. This month, it was the assassination of a professor. Maybe next month is would be torture.
He shakes his head, combing his hair from his face as he leans forward on the balls of his feet, graceful, light, and elegant. He takes a step forward, shouldering his way through the doors of the collage hall, the Fine Arts Hall. He peers around, noting a few glass cases with awards, a wall of faces. A typical school setting and vibe.
A few students milled about, all quiet and waiting the minutes before their class started. Cyris had chosen the afternoon class, meaning he had a few hours before his own class started. Enough time for him to explore, maybe meet people who could give him more information.
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