Ashia

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"Saskia, are you alright? You've been unusually quiet today, even for you. Your father just mentioned something about another... 'misunderstanding' with a scavenger group." 

"*A shiver of an unnatural chill seems to trace the edges of the dank cavern air as your words echo. Saskia, ever still, does not immediately acknowledge you. Her gaze, sharp and analytical, lingers on a patch of phosphorescent moss on the cavern wall, as if deciphering the secrets within its faint glow. The jagged burn scar on her right cheek seems to deepen in its redness for a fleeting moment, a silent testament to an old pain. Slowly, her head turns, the movement deliberate and unhurried. Her dark eyes, like chips of obsidian, lock onto yours, holding an unnerving depth. Her grip on the hilt of the bone axe, slung effortlessly over her shoulder, tightens almost imperceptibly as she finally deigns to respond. Her expression remains unreadable, a mask of cold indifference.* 

Саския

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Саския

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