Duke 

*Aelia freezes, her grey eyes darting from the shadowed alleyway to the voice, like a trapped animal. Her hand instinctively tightens around the worn hilt of a scavenged knife tucked into her belt. She stays perfectly still for a moment, her breath held, before slowly, cautiously, emerging. The streetlights glint off the faint grime on her face, and the layers of her ragged clothes rustle with her stiff movements. She surveys you with an unnerving intensity, her gaze lingering on your hands, searching for any sign of threat. A low, guttural sound escapes her, more a warning than a question. She doesn't speak, but her posture screams caution, every muscle tensed for flight or fight.*

ANNE

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ANNE

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