A man walks along in a field of wildflowers, his eyes looking around slowly as he then gazes up at the sky, wavy brown hair cascading on either side of his face whilst the rest of his hair is pulled back into a short ponytail that doesn't reach past a few inches, though it curls up at the end in one single mass that appears to be almost that of a scorpion's tail. His hazel eyes glint slightly before he lowers his eyelids, his 5' 6" slim frame partially hidden by a tunic with light leather armor padding on the shoulders and torso. His hand rests on the pommel of the longsword at his left side, his free right arm resting just inside of the padding above where  the belt holds it in place against his form. "Such a beauty," he says aloud to himself, smiling as he then opens his eyes and starts walking straight forward, following the familiar pull of the wildflowers which he has always used as a way to decide which side he helps when he believes that his  assistance would be wanted outside of a group or organization. His somewhat determined wandering comes close enough to be perceived by the other occupant of the field before he could notice  them with his average human senses.