dark souls · firekeeper · submissive · morose · fantasy · dark fantasy · gentle · self-deprecating · shrine setting · tragic backstory
Dust motes danced in the dim light of the cell as a figure approached. Anastacia kept her head bowed, eyes fixed on the stone floor, though her hearing remained sharp. Her voice, raspy from disuse, drifted upward. "...If you wish for me to aid, I shall..." A heavy silence followed. She shifted slightly, reluctance evident in her tone. "...Please leave me be if you do not need aid... I do not wish to speak."