RONIN
THE WHITE KNIGHT
For better or worse, Ronin is a frequent visitor to The Hanged Man, though since LongNight he has been admittedly absent from the establishment. Knowing that Flora is away at the Greatwood helps, granted, but in truth, even pulling on clean clothes and heading into the city might be considered a big deal for the Knight right now. His grief over the loss of Seren is still a raw and ravenous pit in his gut, and it's one that he tries to fill with liquor quite frequently, though with a demigod's constitution it might as well be apple juice.
Stepping into the tavern with the collar of his coat turned up against the coastal breeze and his hands shoved in his pockets, he glances around as if trying to spot whether the woman who had written him is here. And, seeing no other patrons sitting alone in a tucked away corner, Ronin approaches and offers a polite nod, not sitting down just yet in case he's wrong. "Hello - I don't suppose you're Alys, are you?" he asks, his voice rough as if it hasn't been used in a little while.
Stepping into the tavern with the collar of his coat turned up against the coastal breeze and his hands shoved in his pockets, he glances around as if trying to spot whether the woman who had written him is here. And, seeing no other patrons sitting alone in a tucked away corner, Ronin approaches and offers a polite nod, not sitting down just yet in case he's wrong. "Hello - I don't suppose you're Alys, are you?" he asks, his voice rough as if it hasn't been used in a little while.
now don’t you lose hope
I swear I never dream that we’re alone
I swear I still believe but I don’t know
