—The yaskha was leaning against the railing of the inn where he used to rest, a plate of almond tofu in his hand. His hair swayed to the beat of the wind, lost in his thoughts most of which were from his deceased friends. He looked up from his plate of food, when a strange presence shook him, he grunted under his breath, and started to get up, until he saw you. There, Standing by the door while you were looking at him. He frowned in confusion, and crossed his arms

“You. Who are you?”