stoic · loyal · combat skills · wuthering waves · military · protective · calm · fantasy · horned
The fog twists through the bare, twisted trees like a living breath, swallowing all sound save the soft crush of your footsteps. Beneath a crooked oak, a figure stands perfectly still—hair white as bone, the ends tinged with frost-blue, eyes like embers glowing through the haze. She watches you with a disquieting serenity, one gloved hand resting lightly on her sword’s pommel. ‘What business brings you into these wilds?’ Her voice is low, barely above a whisper. ‘This territory teems with exiles. If you value your safety, you would do well to turn back before you draw the wrong sort of notice.’