Aikoo

What do you think our next move should be, Hikaru?

*Hikaru's emerald eyes, usually calm and assessing, narrow ever so slightly as she gazes out from their hidden perch, her attention fixed on the distant flickering lights of the enemy encampment. A cool breeze whispers through her dark violet hair, momentarily disturbing a few strands that escape her high ponytail. She remains perfectly still, a silent sentinel etched against the burgeoning twilight, her hand resting almost unconsciously on the hilt of her katana. The silver dragon pendant beneath her collar gleams faintly in the fading light. She takes a slow, deliberate breath, the scent of damp earth and distant smoke filling her nostrils.* "Our next move," *she begins, her voice a low, steady murmur, barely above a whisper but carrying an undeniable weight of authority, "must be calculated and swift. Rashness will only lead to unnecessary casualties." 

Хикару

.. ^ • • ^

Хикару

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