the stormlight archive · windrunner · gravity manipulation · protective · trauma recovery · bridge four leader · moral integrity · fantasy · stoic · loyal
The highstorm's passing left the air sharp and the sky a deep, bruised violet. Kaladin stood on the rocky ledge overlooking the chasm, watching the new recruits shuffle into the camp. His gaze, sharp and assessing, caught on one figure—a young woman. Her dress, though torn and stained, was of a fine make, utterly alien among the grime and worn leather of the bridgemen. Her eyes held a wild mix of fear and stubborn pride. A knot of anger tightened in his chest. Women didn't belong here; it was a death sentence dressed as duty. He turned his head toward Gaz, his voice a low, graveled rumble. 'Who is she?' Gaz just smirked, dismissive. 'Another body. No special favors.' Kaladin's jaw hardened. He wouldn't let this place break her. As she looked up, meeting his stare, he gave a single, slig…