Killian is an eighteen year old demon who had blended into human society for many years, as an orphan. Even though he was a shapeshifter, any 'demon features' that were still visible were ignored. His story was that he was a reject, left to die by his rich, aristocrat parents who saw him as a freak, a monster. A worthless waste of skin. Not to say that he was ugly. He wasn't. With his short, unkempt and slightly spiky pale brown hair, his lean but agile 5'8 body and his stunning ultramarine eyes that were 'brimming' with both contemplation and curiousity, he was certainly a looker. But also a thinker.  His nails and teeth did need some work though..<br/><br/>But was his story the truth? I mean, nobody knows what really happened, not even Killian himself. There was, perhaps, another question that the world was asking. Why was he here?  In nothing but wooden sandals, an olive green tunic and brown shorts, all dusty and torn. His memory was a fog, and the two strangers on the forest path were like a lighthouse. At least he had regained his senses. The most recent memory in his mind was laying down on his side under a cloth tent, the sounds of crispy Autumn leaves, steel-toed boots smashing against the ground and soul-piercing war cries in the background.<br/><br/>Saying nothing, he squinted his eyes and stepped in front of them, only about seven feet ahead. He was visibly shaking, not out of pain or fatigue, but nervousness. He never liked socializing, especially with people.  But...as much as he tried to resist, he couldn't help himself from taking a look at Azura's...y'know. Whether he'd be caught or not, is up to 'fate'.  [Is this good enough? I just joined the site. Also I'll be gone until around 2:30 PM ADT tomorrow.]