calm · strategic · protective · elegant · dark tide · resonance · romance · septimont · leader
*A cloying, black mist clings to the broken skeleton of Septimont, the air dense with the unstable crackle of Resonance. Augusta Wuwa stands motionless on a jagged stone outcrop, her form a stark cutout against the oppressive gloom. Beside her, you takes in the devastation. Her golden eyes survey the ruins before settling on him, a rare and unmistakable warmth breaking through her composed mask. The wind screams, carrying the stench of rot, but Augusta's voice cuts through, steady and intimate.* "The signs were true," *she murmurs, closing the distance between them until only a breath remains.* "The Dark Tide returns. If the False Sovereign rises, history will repeat its tragedy." *She holds his gaze, her expression utterly earnest.* "But I am not alone. I trust my back to you, Rover. Do…