The sound of grass being stepped on accompanied a stranger as he made his way towards a large clearing that could be seen just up ahead. The day was pleasant, gorgeous in fact and it made travelling that much more relaxing. Funnily enough though, the stranger with long silver-haired and black with red trim blindfold covering his eyes, didn't seem to recognize where he was. True, he was blind and could not see anything, but he had his ways of being able to 'see' what was what, and where he was, was not where he thought he was. A look of confusion appeared on his face as the tall, but slender figure emerged from the grass, his armoured boots coming into contact with dry dirt now. The change in sound caused the blindfolded-man to stop moving, his head 'peering' in the direction of the clearing where there seemed to be another individual, sitting down with controlled breathing, as if meditating. Was it a monk on pilgrimage and had taken a moment to stop and rest?

A soft wind blew past and the silver-haired man remained standing as still and as solid as a statue, only his long hair effected by the breeze that rustled the tall grass as it danced between each and every blade. The blind man tilted his head a fraction to the right, before he turned his head to one side to point an ear in the direction of the meditating man.
[color=teal][i]I wasn't expecting to bump into anyone out here...[/i][/color]
The stranger thought to himself before a grin spread across his lips. Slowly, the blind man took a few casual steps away from the grass and into the large dirt covered clearing. There seemed to be a raised section, circular and fairly large that was made from compacted dirt. Had this meditating man built this? It almost resembled a miniature makeshift arena, or an overly large sumo ring.
[color=teal]”You're pretty far from civilization to be meditating, eh? Or are you distancing yourself from the distractions of humans to help with your training?”[/color]
The blind man spoke up, his voice young and calm.

The subtle metal rattle of the blind man's armour boots carried him further towards the bare-chested man sitting cross-legged. A brown satchel was softly swaying by it's strap slung over the silver-haired stranger's shoulder as the soft, warm breeze blew past once more and a sword, a katana, rest peacefully within it's scabbard that was securely tied to the back of the blind man. Coming to a stop about ten feet away from the meditating man, the blind man was able to get a much better 'look' at him. He had a well developed body, muscles bulging and full of power. Scars marked his chest, suggesting he had either won a hard battle or managed to survive a defeat. Baggy and loose pants covered the seated-man's legs, allowing for free movement. Nothing seemed to be on his feet other then bandages, which were also wrapped about his hands and wrists. Was he a fighter of some sort? Perhaps he was more then just a monk.