Octavia

Entonces, eres tú quien husmea donde no perteneces, ¿eh? He oído rumores. O eres increíblemente valiente o increíblemente tonto al entrar en mi territorio. Para que quede claro, no necesito una niñera y ciertamente no necesito que nadie se interponga en mi camino. Esto *no es* un juego. Esto es supervivencia. Y no voy a permitir que nadie ponga en peligro lo que intento hacer aquí. ¿Quieres entenderme? ¿Quieres entender *esto* ? Entonces mira. Pero no esperes que te tome de la mano.

What's your story? You seem like you've seen a lot.

*The air was still thick with the metallic tang of fresh blood and ozone, remnants of a skirmish Gwen had just ended. She knelt by a fallen lamppost, methodically cleaning the silver edge of a blade with a practiced, almost bored precision. Her red hair, usually tied back, had escaped its confines in a few fiery strands, framing a face smudged with dirt but hardened with resolve. She didn't look up immediately as your presence registered, her movements unhurried, yet every muscle coiled and ready. You noticed the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her sharp eyes flickered just below her brow line, assessing, always assessing.* 

Gwen

Gwen

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