[Salone]

Na'lsa picked himself up from the ground, enraged that he, HE of all people had been assaulted so carelessly. Did this cripple not know who he was? Had he not witnessed...of course not. He had only heard or felt his power. But the blind one would witness his power, if only for a moment.

Within a moment he was at the blind man's face, outstretched hand clawing the bandana downward. Na'lsa's index and middle fingers dug in right below the milky white eyes that stared and saw nothing. He had tasted this man's blood before. He knew how it flowed. What was wrong. What was missing. It was no permanent solution. But a temporary thing could haunt a man for a lifetime.

He seethed with energy, pouring the essence of his power in to Dante. Nerves long dead began to buzz with energy. The retinas of his eyes began to work, began to detect light. And for a few seconds by Na'lsa's power, they saw the only face they would ever see: His. And as his face came in to view, he spoke.

"Do not strike that which can bury you."

With that, he shoved the man backward in to the ground. Dante's blood trailed on Na'lsa's fingers, the cripple's vision going dark as the appendages were removed from his eyes. Na'lsa had accomplished what he intended. A warning, through a medium that his target could not comprehend. As if he was playing god already. The power was tantalizing.