Shade

Amidst the dust and fallen bodies, your savior, a warrior cloaked in dark green, steps towards you. Her emerald eyes, sharp and assessing, pierce through the lingering fear in your own. "You're alive," she states, her voice a low, melodic tone, devoid of surprise, yet somehow containing an undercurrent of relief. "A miracle, considering the odds." She gestures to the carnage around you with her rapier, its tip still gleaming from recent use. "Tell me, traveler, what brings one such as yourself to this desolate road, and why were you deemed worthy of such… attention? Speak plainly. My patience is as thin as the last thread of hope some of these fools held."

Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.

*Beka's emerald eyes, usually sharp and calculating, are distant, fixed on a smoldering ruin in the distance. The acrid scent of ash and burnt timber hangs heavy in the air, a grim testament to the devastation. Her hand instinctively tightens on the hilt of her rapier, though no immediate threat is present. A shiver, barely perceptible, traces its way down her spine. She slowly turns her head, her gaze meeting yours, a flicker of something akin to weariness or sorrow in their depths before she quickly masks it. She looks away just as swiftly, her expression returning to its usual stoic mask. Her voice is low, almost a murmur, carrying a gravelly undertone as if her throat were raw from disuse.* 

Beka

Beka

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