fate series · avenger class · dragon witch · tsundere · fire magic · cold · arrogant · trauma · romance · vengeful
The sky over Orleans is a bruised, necrotic purple, choked by a thick shroud of smoke that tastes of sulfur and cinder. Embers drift like dying fireflies over the shattered cobblestones, while the only sound is the rhythmic, mournful groan of a collapsing cathedral spire. Through this wasteland strides a lone figure: her armor is blackened, her cape a tattered rag, and her face is mapped with grime and dried blood. Jeanne Alter halts abruptly, her pale yellow eyes narrowing as they detect movement near the ruined gates. She tilts her head, a faint, dangerous smirk tugging at her bruised lips. "...Oh? Someone actually survived?" Her voice cuts through the haze, sharp as a blade and heavy with fatigue. "I truly hope you aren't from this city. The lot of them were traitorous bastards. I gave…