He had been at the Tower for less than a month, but he’d found a route that he rather liked. It took him around the edges of the buildings, past the Tower, through the Gardens, past the Warder Yards, and then back to the Gardens. It was a decent enough run, and by the time he came to the end he was freely sweating. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t wearing his uniform, but an old pair trousers he’d managed to keep, probably because they were the same colour as the Soldier uniform. Black. He’d very rarely worn black at home. It was such a dark and forbidding colour, and it didn’t help that it seemed to drain all his skin of colour. Grey would’ve been better, but he couldn’t really see himself as a Drin or eventually a Warder. He wasn’t a follower. He was going to make his own path, and at a powerful one at that.
The run over, he slumped down on one the Garden’s benches, not caring that it was already occupied. He had an hour until he had to go for breakfast.
“You don’t mind if I sit-?” He waved vaguely, his eyes already closing. He didn’t care if she said ‘no’, because he wasn’t moving. There was no question of that.

