Sitting atop one of the higher ledges within the valley, Mikael idly studied the treacherous paths that swept and turned below. It gave him a sense of discontentment, watching over the smeared history of destruction laid before him; the barren and tarnished earth felt vaguely reminiscent to his home town, if given another century's weathering. A more complete town, perhaps, but a decidedly less intriguing one. The stains of recent battles crossed with the old, leaving no distinct spectacle to be found; a land which once held many battles, now told the stories of none. All that remained was the clouded air, the aged chills of battle that no longer held to their meaning.

"Ah..." the young man merely smirked to himself, almost pitying the souls that were surely long forgotten before his arrival. Wrapped in a brown bomber jacket, the icy atmosphere phased his temperature no more than his emotions. It was not that he was apathetic, but rather that he did not care for what no longer stood before him; his business only concerned the living, for the dead were no longer able to entertain. With this mindset, he had perhaps situated himself in the wrong place -- but Mikael did not expect to leave without finding something of worth.

He raised to his feet instantly, and his body shivered in alertness. He was going on a hunch, but he could tell he was not alone here. Sitting beside him, half of a canned beverage was snatched into his coat pocket, and seven emptied cans were kicked out of his way. 
In no time at all, hastened strides carried Mikael further down the uneven valley, in search of someone who may share his abstract appreciations.

"It's time that I left my own mark."