[ He stands at the edge of the lake, watching the glimmering bursts of power refract over its surface from those who practice their breath training. The water roils from the attacks emitted below, while targets above burst apart in spectacular shows of marksmanship and control, scattering ashy debris. Waves ripple outward from the effects,  their momentum scattering across the body of water until they lap gently against the shoreline.

Water brushes over his feet, cool. Dewy. An old sensation, far past the periphery of memory. Much like the warmth of daylight, magnificent, unyielding... august. This world thrives, a marvel.  Meanwhile, his own yet cries for salvation, emaciated.

The hem of his dark robes rustle, and his arm emerges. His left hand lifts, pale palm facing upward, and his head inclines as if inspecting it. Light illuminates each crease, each fingerprint, each faint, lightening-like burn webbed upon it. An even icier band of where a heavy ring once rested mars his middle finger. Eventually, he turns his hand over, lowering it. It vanishes beneath his cloak.

For the first time in millennia, he feels... sun.

Find him standing as still as a statue, basking in the scene. If you approach him, however, his gaze will slice from where light kisses the surface to where you stand. The movement is rigid, as if he'd been carved from steel. ]

[ Fishing rod? Naw. Spear? Absolutely.

He's dressed casually for the exercise-- in his tunic, draped in a deep blue chlamys-- as he plunges the hunting weapon into the shallow waters of the lake, skewering an unlucky creature. The kill is clean as he pulls the polearm out, crystal clear droplets of water splattering in an graceful arc that follows the motion. With the bounty seized, he wades his way back to the shore. A humble fire crackles in the waning light, his outer cloak and other accessories neatly piled nearby. Peeking out from beneath the belongings is a golden clasp with the chrysanthemum-star adorning it, the dynasty crest of Lucis.  

If you've also been at this spot fishing, he won't object to your presence. Instead, he'll offer a lift of his chin in acknowledgement. With his free hand, he gestures to share the flames, the motion curbed, faintly militaristic. ] Fire is indiscriminate against company.

[ Likewise, it burns all. ]

[ He's at one of the edges of one of the bonfires. Can you believe this man has never tasted s'mores before?? Someone, maybe a local, handed him a marshmallow and a prong. No doubt one is meant to roast the morsel, but perfecting it? That's a whole other challenge. Watch his second one turn molten, then burn to ash. ]

These [ What were they called again? Marshmallows?? ] are rather capricious. [ It's a skill issue. ]

[ Have an idea? PM this account, drinksteapots, or Jade294#6977!  Also to note: canonically, Somnus shares the same face as Noctis, only aged to 30. CR is free to recognize the resemblance. ]