(no subject)

[oncemarauder.livejournal.com]

[a man appears on the Plane; he is young, but his face is lined with anxiety (marred, here and there, by very thin scars, easy to miss if one isn't looking), and there is the faintest hint of silver in his pale brown hair (straight, falling almost to his shoulders)]

What is this?

[his wand is out in moments, of course, yanked from the makeshift holster beneath his long dark robes (a bit tattered, a bit worn); it looks like a smooth branch, save for the sparks erupting from the end]

Whoever is behind this, you should know I don't break easily, and you'll very likely be worse off for trying. [his voice is even and quiet, almost polite, but it is also hard, and determined; his eyes dart this way and that, his stance ready to shift in an instant]

Now stop toying with me, I have work to do.