Open Fields of Grace

Kalt I say goodbye to my weakness, So long to the regret, and now I see the world through diamond eyes.     The man flashed a kind smile at the newcomer, and he adjusted his grip on the guitar just slightly, glancing down at the strings for a brief moment. He learned long ago how to make quick and terrifyingly accurate assessments of people he met along the road in his life, and this man seemed relatively harmless from the looks of it. Of course looks could always be deceiving. Regardless, that would be discovered, he supposed.     It seemed the other man had a habit of acting familiar with strangers. He called Kalt ‘friend,’ and the assassin shoved down a roll of his eyes. Kalt never had a friend before – save for Ashe, though that turned romantic – and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the thought. As he did with all feelings that he didn’t understand or like, he shoved it out of his mind to deal with another time.     ”I never learned to play formally,” Kalt answered the man. ”Taught myself in my teen years, so I simply let my fingers converse with the strings.” He smiled at the thought. Playing the guitar was always a way to escape the cruelty of his life and create something beautiful, so he always enjoyed meeting fellow musicians and artists. It seemed this man fit into the category, so it won him a few points in the assassin’s mind.     Crystalline eyes sized up the other man quickly and raised a brow. ”Name’s Kalt,” he said, finally stopping the music, reaching his gloved hand out to offer a greeting. ”What do you create, hm? Music? Literature? Paintings?” Bastien