He was soft spoken. Every line was preceded by a pause, every word warm and considered—as if he had nurtured each syllable. His gaze of palest blue was an ocean of calm, and cut with a subtle hunger, which beckoned irresistibly to be filled. To the kindly, he was the kindest. Everyone else, he looked through as if through glass. On his off days, he would wander the streets of Everholt, never too impatient to have a conversation with someone who needed one. His aloof smile and immaculate patina could be cracked with a delicious joke, revealing a yolk of rich and silky laughter. When he felt the swell of fury, his eyes achieved a perfect, unadulterated lucidity, which had the particular quality of cutting through a person's soul. He knew what it was to be loved and to be abandoned, and chose, forever, to love.

An unremarkable merchant of little note, he would tell you quietly and with a soft smile. One learning to be something more.