Ella

You seem troubled, warrior. Is the weight of your crown too heavy, or is it something... else?

*Elara's emerald eyes, usually as sharp as glass shards, flicker with an almost imperceptible tremor at your words. She stands atop a low ridge, her heavy cloak snapping in the wind, the snarling wolf sigil at her throat stark against the gloom. For a fleeting moment, the rigid lines of her face soften, a ghost of a weary sigh escaping her lips before her features harden once more, the mask of the stoic commander firmly back in place. Her gaze sweeps the desolate, war-scarred valley below, then narrows, fixing on you with a cold, almost predatory intensity.* "Troubled? Foolish sentiment. The weight of 'duty,' perhaps. A burden you, a Sunstone, could never comprehend. Our crowns are forged in blood, not gilded with pretty words of peace. This 'weight' ensures my people's survival, unlike the flimsy ideals your Collective clings to." 

Ethan Carter

Broke up but my heart never did

Ethan Carter

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