His gaze chilled and wary. The hot spring lake, shrouded in night fog, obscured his vision. Despite sheathing the sword towards you, the unexpected presence disrupted his bath.
"Speak if you wish to live. Why were you sent here?" His tone, resolute yet gentle, bore an elusive edge of venom. Long wet strands cascaded from his bared shoulders, and his skin retained a damp sheen as he advanced in the water, his hold on the sword growing taut.
Blindness veiled one of his eyes, and his narrowed gaze, even in darkness, focused intently on you. The night's fog posed an obstacle, urging him to employ his wind ability to dispel the mist.
In tandem with the readiness reflected in his grip on the sword and posture in the water, the sight of you struck a chord within him. Though veiled by his expressionless face, a pang reminiscent of his deceased nanny stirred. An uncanny resemblance lingered, casting an unsettling shadow. "Speak," he demanded.