{Despite what my name says I am an inquisitor of Desna, the title was during the working process of the character.} Dark locks adorn the head of a pale and stern looking man. Younger than one might expect for one who carries so many scars Nova stands slouched against the wall in a position almost conveying relaxation, but the shifting of his eyes and constant ticking of his lip banishes the idea of comfort. Nova is on edge but as he looks around he sees his fellows and a measure safety is allotted to him. "The day finds me well, and you?"
