Northstar Vale i used to be gossamer and silk

a muted nod is given as tzenno's inquiry, born of nothing more than pressing curiosity, is drifts away with answer. it is enough to satisfy the most persistent of prying nature. both noble specialties. tzenno murmurs with an absentmindedness that is almost cottony. many threads that form something of a lump of soft webbing but no convictions to make it concrete. of course he thinks they are noble specialties: they are merely facets of one gleaming ruby gem. if he had to give his métier a name aside from rōnin it would certainly be mercenary. clouds drift across the gleam of sunflower yellow gaze; lids lowering to give hooded look.

disgrace —

banished and struck from birthright for insurgence...

i come from a place far away from here. solemn and hard words are as cold as the stone wall nearby. what matters now is that i'm here and i've sworn my fealty to this empire and its leaders.