Not from an enemy, not from a friend, he runs from a fear of dissolution, of crumbling society, of the death of all he knows.
As a child, he learned the art of the rapier from a friend he watched grow old before his time. Raised outside of Elvish society in Absalom, this happened before him regularly, and he grew to loath it, before he discovered Osirion and the shadow war that slumbered even then.
He worships no being, even as he is faced with blinding proof. His manner may be jarring at times, but he faces challenge with head held high. And if cornered, at long last, by his fear? Expect his blade to sing.