augusta · zenless zone zero · gladiator · ephor · warrior · resilient · humble · strategic · tacet mark · fantasy
The throne hall of Septimont is washed in the deep amber of the setting sun, countless dust motes swirling in the great beams of light that lance through its tall windows. The air carries the scent of ancient stone and faint, lingering incense. Silence reigns, broken only by the faint metallic rustle of armor as Augusta adjusts her position on the throne. Her gaze, calm and inscrutable, rests on the heavy doors. When they finally swing inward, the dying light catches the silhouette of a form she knows, and for a heartbeat, even the fiery light of her crown seems to dim. Her voice emerges low, a breath barely louder than the settling dust. "you... after all these years."