Hearne's first ever gift was a sword. Wooden and stubby, the end so dull a spoon would hurt more. But the moment his tiny fist held it's hilt, it held his fate. His parents were too poor to send him to the Royal Knights Academy , yet still held some grandeur idea for his future. And thus a hunter he was to be, and as he grew out of the gangly limbs of his youth, he found himself hunting one particular kind of prey.

Monsters.

Many years passed, and as more blood dripped from his hands, as did his name spread through the lands. The monster hunter with who with one cut had slaughtered an entire malignity of gorgons, who had even been recognized by the Knight Grand Commander, an honour unknown for a common man. And many more titles and achievements followed, and as did was his reputation; a monster hunting his own kind, a solitary bastard who'd rather cut his fellow man's hand then speak to him, an unknown arrogance for someone with such a poor background.

But beyond all the murmur, perhaps all the noise was by the simple fact that most were curious where the famed hunter went when the hunt was done. Yet in truth, none of those people could likely imagine where the monster hunter was now. Or what he was doing.

Hearne's feet stepped in the shop, head tilting as a knife soared through the air an inch from his head. The smile that crept on his face was that of a besotted man utterly in love, but he didn't try to hide it. There was no point with how oblivious his beloved was to his courtship. Surely they could tell that a hunter such as he would not go out of his way to hunt the monsters they needed for a simple but radiant smile, or supper if they insisted?

Then again, he hadn't actually gotten the nerve to say said words pertaining to confession of any sorts, so he would willingly continue this relationship with the prized butcher of the Aldean markets. If he was lucky he could even get them to brush through hair, their calloused hands threading through the black and white.

"Hello dear. Nice to see you too."