He had gotten terribly angry. It was bad enough not to have any contact with his family—well, his birth parents—but to be dropped into this place. He grinned remorsefully at the thought of his foster family, the ones who had taken him in like of their own: a brother, a son. "now all I need are the pointy ears," was his thought. Quickly, he grabbed a rucksack and shoved a few essentials into it, grabbed his weaponry, he turned and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror—shaggy brown hair covered angry, ice cold eyes and the outline of a tern set jaw. Letting his long harbored frustration loose, he punched the mirror, sprinkling the ground with shattered glass and leaving, intent on finding his purpose.