The scraping a blade against skin echoed throughout Syrioh's room as he slowly shaved off his beard. Each drag of his knife being slow, and methodical. Hair quickly filling the bucket he was using the clean the knife after every stroke. He was preparing himself for what he was setting out to do. What he had to do. He had to find her.
His beard was made short work of, and his hair was shortened as well by his own blade. While the maids he'd hired quietly shuffled around the house, and his child, feeling uneasy around him. He didn't blame them.
As he rose to say goodbye to his child, he took a glance to the mirror, checking off items in his head. Bow. Quiver. Arrows. Swords. Whip. Cloak. Food. Water. All there. All ready for him to go find her. He was going to. He had to. There was no try. Not for him. Not now.
He held his child close as he said goodbye. Countless kisses laid upon her head as she slept. Endless words of love laid into the sleeping ears of his child. He then said goodbye. He was going to come back with her Mother. He promised it. It had to happen.
