An impregnably darkened purple sky, characteristic of only one land, greeted Vuoto's visitors. Such immutable shade defined the Darkling Domains. Accordingly, the architecture was equally marked by gloom like nightshade; buildings were incredibly gray slabs for the most part. But that day, new feet walked the streets of Vuoto just as new wind blew through the town. A light gust heralded that day, and fittingly so.

A young man, filled with wanderlust and enchantment by the scene, paced quietly with a stiff and practiced gait to the innocuous affair of a café, where a shady fellow with shaggy hair sat with a lanky brunet. [i][color=7094DB]Ah, there they are.[/color][/i] This young man who came was the Wind Caller, and his appearance did nothing to hide this fact, with hair that looked combed by gale, skin that appeared flushed and fair, and eyes that beheld a mighty storm, the blight of the gods. He could feel the winds pulse in his veins as his heartrate escalated with each step to the table.

Farrus, brushed his neat, medium-length gray hair to the side once more as he made his final approach. With decorum and reluctance, Farrus refused himself a seat until he could properly acquaint himself with the other two, so he stood by the table in the presence of the others and fixed himself with upright posture to speak.

[i][color=7094DB]Well, here goes nothing.[/color][/i]

With more reluctance, he forced the words out of his mouth. Luckily, a facade of confident speech preceded him. He could shroud his real timidity in darkness with a natural voice, and like an aria, Farrus greeted the others at the table: [color=7094DB]"Good evening."[/color]