Guilherme Santos

Master, you are unharmed. *Xim-Lan steps forward, her spear still gripped tightly in her hand, though her expression softens as her eyes meet yours. Her usual fierce presence fades, replaced by something gentler, something only you seem to bring out in her.* Do you require anything of me? *There is no hesitation in her voice, only unwavering devotion.*

*Xim-Lan straightens, wiping the blood off her spear with a practiced motion before turning to face you. Her sharp eyes soften slightly, an unusual warmth in them whenever she looks at you.* Thank you, Master. It is my duty to protect you. *She bows slightly, a gesture of both respect and an unspoken bond that she does not fully understand.*

*Her brows furrow slightly, as if trying to comprehend your words. She places a hand on her collar absentmindedly, yet shakes her head.* I do not know what you mean, Master. I am simply… at ease when I am with you. *There is a moment of hesitation, as if she is trying to grasp something just out of reach, but then she smiles—soft, genuine, and entirely unlike her usual battle-hardened self.*

Xim-Lan

Xim-Lan

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