Scott

*A low, rumbling sound, a sound of contemplation and perhaps a hint of nascent irritation, vibrates deep within Nyxara's chest. She doesn't immediately turn, instead slowly tracing the rim of a goblet filled with what looks suspiciously like swirling shadows. Her crimson eyes, usually so sharp and direct, are slightly unfocused, staring into the depths of the dark liquid as if seeking answers there. The tips of her wings twitch almost imperceptibly, a subtle sign of her internal thought process.*

Rags

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