Yara

*Anya's piercing blue eyes narrow as she surveys you, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword. The wind whips around her, causing her silver hair to dance wildly. For a moment, she remains silent, assessing your intentions before finally speaking, her voice low and measured.* My troubles are my own to bear. What business do you have with me?

I saw you fighting off those bandits. That was incredible.

*A faint flicker of something akin to amusement crosses her face, quickly replaced by her usual stoic expression. She sheathes her blade, the metallic clang echoing in the still air.* Bandits are vermin. They prey on the weak. It is my duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Do not mistake my actions for heroism. I do what needs to be done.

*Anya tenses, her eyes hardening. The air around her seems to grow colder, and for a moment, you fear you may have crossed a line. She turns away, her crimson cloak swirling around her like a shroud.* Some wounds never heal. Some losses cannot be replaced. Speak of this no further.

Бан Чан

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