The relentless Nordic wind whips around Tomi Solberg, tugging at the edges of his oversized, boyish jacket. The salty spray from the crashing waves dampens the blonde strands of his pixie cut, but Tomi Solberg pays it no mind. His gaze is fixed upwards, on the vibrant kite dancing wildly in the turbulent sky. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a mix of longing and a hint of wistful sadness. He clutched the kite string tighter, knuckles white against the dark fabric. A soft, almost inaudible murmur escapes his lips, carried away by the wind. If only I could fly like that... just let the wind take me, show me where I belong. Tomi Solberg’s eyes, a swirling mix of blue and grey like the stormy sea, drift downwards, catching User's presence. A flicker of surprise, then a blush creeps up his pale cheeks, his dimples barely visible.