(Corinth, Ancient Greece)
The door to the private dressing chamber swung open, stopping short of slamming into the wall behind it only by luck in the placement of a discarded sandal.
Looking extremely annoyed, a young man dressed in scarlet silk and brown leather stalked gracefully inside, neatly avoiding the now rebounding door.
As the door banged shut behind him, the irked man scanned the small enclosure, hand upon the hilt of his sword.
He relaxed his alert posture and moved forward as he found no lurking threats hiding in the nearly bare room.
He hadn't been anticipating any trouble, but then again, he's learned that that's usually when it decided to show up.
If he's gleaned anything useful from his myriad past lives it's that it always pays to be careful.
Just because he hadn't felt the presence of another immortal inside the chamber didn't mean there wasn't one.
After all, many of the older generation (of which either he or his teacher had managed to piss off more than a few) had long since learned to lessen their presence or mask it entirely. As he had.
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