It had been a fresh start for Dagramir. The young man had ditched his old black leather armour, for a more fitting grey attire, and had, most importantly, buried his mask in the middle of Chetwood. He knew that if he were to begin righting the wrongs in his life, the first step to self-redemption was the physical change. And once that was over.. Then came the hard part. Tailia.
The idea of everything going wrong was a more trivial thing than anybody realized, Blince’s thoughts told him as he strode across his silent home, his lover asleep upstairs still, but his two children having awoken, and were playing within the family room.
As Blince walked casually through Begger's alley for the um-teenth time this week, he began thinking. Not why he was doing it, he knew why. He was bored, and longed for something to take his anger out on. So he acted as a ''Hero'', even though he was barely one. He killed anyone who he thought deserved it, and beat the other's half to death.
Blince walked slowly into his home, and glanced left and right before laying down his gear, in it's usual spot by the door. He then went over to his bedroom, and peeked the door open to peer at Ivornwen, and smiled faintly as he saw sleeping peacefully, if not snoring loudly every now and then. The door closed carefully under his hand, and he took up his journal and pen and slouched down unto his chair.
As Blince sat in that old chair he'd placed there himself in the Shadow Blade's prison, he began to ponder, more so out of boredom than anything else. Many things came across his mind, Triche and Bianca, his deceased wife and child, though were never far from his thoughts.