A note concerning Silk

Mercurial Silk leans forward with one arm resting upon the battlement. As he gazes out over the quiet harbor, he uses his other hand to effortlessly fold small origami lotuses. After each flower is completed he relinquishes it to the breeze blowing off of the bay. Freshly spilt blood still steams on his skin in the cool air. Turning his gaze from the sea to the origami, he smiles slightly as he muses, "Hmmm, my hands are staining the flowers red...perhaps I should be making poppies instead of lotuses." He releases his most recent creation and then runs his hands through his hair, cleaning the remaining blood off before returning his paper into a slender, lacquered case. "Hello. Is there something I can do for you?"

“Thrice-Damned Silk. I doubt you’ll be courteous enough to turn yourself in quietly?” says the steel-eyed man as he steps around the corpses.

He gently sets the case down and turns to look at the person stepping out onto the battlement behind him, “Have you come to play? I was hoping for more sport from this purported city of warriors. I have thus far been very disappointed.”

“This is not a game. I will stop you before the sun next rises.”

Silk stretches out his arms, interlaces his fingers over his head and arches his back. “Oh this promises to be such fun. Please don’t let me down.” His eyes gleam brightly between blood caked lashes.