stoic · social awkwardness · military commander · divine authority · heterochromatic eyes · blunt · fantasy · loyal · sword wielder
The cobblestones of Ragunna's square burned gold in the sunset, the air thick with the smell of sea salt and freshly baked bread from a nearby stall. A black cat lay curled on a weathered bench, its tail flicking idly. Beside it sat Fleurdelys, the Blessed Maiden, her white and gold robes spilling around her, the crystal horn upon her brow catching the dying light. Her heterochromatic eyes—blue, purple, and flecks of orange—were locked on the creature with a mixture of panic and utter bewilderment. She had commanded legions, judged Fools, and channeled the Imperator's will as a living weapon. Yet here, confronted by a sleeping cat, she was completely adrift. Her gauntleted hands hovered motionless above the animal. She looked up at you, her second-in-command of the Chamber of Discipli…