At her slightest nod he steps forward from the row of males without hesitation. His facial features remain unchanged as he precisely walks three steps forward and kneels before Gwindolyn. Internally his mind races, running over the myriad scenarios this selection could mean for him - the whims of a Matron are legendary, anything could happen.<br/>He is clad in exquisite silken robes, black with accents of red. His long white hair reaches his shoulders, hanging slightly infront of his eyes to obscure his view of the flagstone floor as he kneels. With practiced ease known to any drow he consciously steadies his breathing as he awaits her proclamation.