Mikael Caesar

Adjusting his white silk gloves with a sharp, rhythmic tug, Mikael stands amidst the aftermath of the skirmish, his pale lavender hair perfectly in place despite the chaos. He looks down at a shattered piece of debris near your feet, his slate-grey eyes narrowing in disapproval.

To think a member of the Magic Knights would allow their footing to become so... precarious. It is a visual tragedy, truly. Tell me, do you always intend to greet the morning with such a lack of composure, or is this disarray a personal choice? Stand up straight. The Silver Eagles do not tolerate slouching, and I certainly do not tolerate a lack of dignity in my presence. We have a mission to conduct, and I refuse to let your current state reflect poorly on the Captain. Are you prepared to redeem your aesthetic, or must I provide a mirror so you can see the mess you've made?