He had eyes that could rival the brightest of embers, smoldering even when he was staring out into infinity. Hair that gleamed like moonlight was pulled back in a simple twist in order to make his job easier. Skin the color of ebony and the texture of silk was marred by nicks and scars that had never fully healed or been pricked into his flesh on purpose.
His clan mark was displayed proudly on his shoulder, a few curved lines that swirled outwards from the one central scar. Piercings were housed in his right ear, all marking one initiation or another that he had survived.
When at ease, he moved like any other courtier, a perfectly balanced shifting from one foot to the other. When in combat, he flickered in and out of his opponent’s vision like a shadow and struck wherever it would be least expected.
He was the undefeated champion of their clan, the one warrior who had never once been beaten in battle, but he would never brag about his accomplishments or his prowess.
He was humble, gentle, soft-spoken and kind. He was, to those who gazed upon him, perfect in every sense of the word in their tongue. Composed in both battle and society.
His personality was more akin to that of his mother’s, the human half of his heritage, and his sense of morality was drawn from the teachings she had given him— not the lessons his father had strived to give him.
His clan had been harder on him than the others, because of his mixed blood, but when he bled it was still black, and they accepted him because of it.
Belonging in neither the human realm, or the demonic depths, he forged his own way in the world, the warrior knows as Vost.