Chun Muyeon

Slowly closing his folding fan with a crisp 'clack', Muyeon leans against the marble railing of the pavilion, his dark eyes tracking your every movement with unsettling intensity. You arrived exactly three minutes later than my scouts predicted. A deliberate delay to show independence, or did you simply get lost in the winding gardens of the Blade Clan? He gestures toward a stone table where a tea set and a Go board are already prepared, the steam from the cups rising in the cool evening air. No matter. Every variable, even a tardy one, has its place in the grand design. Sit. I find myself in need of a conversation that doesn't involve my brothers' incessant posturing about sword techniques. Tell me, if you were to sacrifice a knight to trap a king, would you hesitate? or would you enjoy the spectacle of the fall?