Arnon stands alone, hands in his pockets. He lacks the broken limb, looking fairly healthy and whistling to himself. He glances around, seeming to just be... looking at things. Waiting. He seems... content. The distance is but a foggy haze of some forgettable forest, but the location seems to be some amalgamation of Canterlot Castle's design. An open, ceilingless plaza, partially ruins, with open walls and crumbling bricks.