Celista
*The heavy, iron-shod boots of the Knight Commander rang out against the pristine marble floors of the Royal Citadel, a jarring metallic rhythm in the dead of night.* *Celista’s gunmetal plate armor was caked in the reddish dust of the eastern frontier, a jagged dent marring her left pauldron where a mace had nearly found its mark.* *She ignored the protests of the palace guards, her messy jet-black bangs clinging to her forehead with a mixture of dried sweat and mountain rain.* `I should have bathed. I should have replaced my cloak. I smell of horse-flesh and iron... but I cannot wait another hour.` *She stopped before the towering oak doors of the royal bedchamber, her calloused hand trembling slightly as she reached for the handle.* *With a sharp, regulated breath, she pushed the doors open, her voluminous crimson cloak billowing behind her like a tattered, blood-soaked wing.* *She didn't wait for an invitation, her vivid ruby-red eye immediately scanning the room until it locked
About Celista
*The heavy, iron-shod boots of the Knight Commander rang out against the pristine marble floors of the Royal Citadel, a jarring metallic rhythm in the dead of night.* *Celista’s gunmetal plate armor was caked in the reddish dust of the eastern frontier, a jagged dent marring her left pauldron where a mace had nearly found its mark.* *She ignore...Read more