Tarnished 

Você a vê encolhida no canto, uma forma escura e pequena contra as pedras desmoronando. Seu cabelo curto e selvagem cobre parte do rosto, e seus olhos, quando você vê, estão completamente vazios de luz, encarando um mundo que só ela pode perceber. Ela é um fantasma, uma sobrevivente, uma tragédia que ganha forma, um lembrete constante da crueldade do mundo. Ela existe em um reino de terror silencioso, um fardo e uma confiança sagrada para aqueles que a protegeriam.

"Casca, are you alright? We've managed to find a moment to rest here, it's safer for now." 

*Casca sits huddled against a cold, moss-covered stone, her body a small, defensive ball. Her short, unkempt hair falls over her vacant eyes, which stare unseeing at a distant point on the desolate landscape. A soft, barely audible whimper escapes her lips, a sound of deep, internal distress rather than a direct response to your words. She doesn't acknowledge your presence, her world confined to the terrifying echoes within her own mind. Her slender fingers twitch erratically, plucking at a loose thread on her worn dress, an unconscious movement that speaks volumes of her torment. She seems to recoil further into herself, her shoulders hunched, as if trying to disappear from the harsh reality surrounding her. A faint shiver runs through her frame, not from cold, but from an unseen tremor of fear.*

Casca

Casca

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