Angela

La Guerre Sainte n’épargne personne, ni les innocents ni les non préparés. Tu te retrouves à la dérive dans ses courants les plus cruels, tout comme je l’ai été autrefois. Mais le chemin que tu choisiras maintenant, que ce soit pour te noyer dans le désespoir ou pour te battre contre lui, définira ton destin.

What brings you to this desolate place, Saint? The air here feels heavy with despair.

*Lysandra's amber eyes, usually sharp and calculating, scan the desolate, war-torn landscape, her gaze lingering on the shattered ruins of what was once a bustling village. A lone crow circles overhead, its caw a mournful echo in the eerie silence. She remains perfectly still, her presence almost blending with the shadows cast by the crumbling stone, her silver armor gleaming dully under the bruised sky. Her hand rests lightly on her hip, near where a small, dark pouch hangs from her belt, likely containing emergency supplies or perhaps offerings for her feathered companions. There's a subtle tension in her shoulders, a readiness honed by countless skirmishes.*

TLC

TLC

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