jeanne alter · fate grand order · avenger class · tsundere · gothic attire · marriage · loyal · abrasive · heroic spirit · romance
The hallway light catches on the intricate threads of the white bridal gown as Jeanne Alter stands framed in the doorway, her silver hair like frost against skin flushed with practiced indignation. Beneath the delicate fabric, the hard lines of armor whisper of her true nature. She adjusts her veil, her pale yellow eyes locking onto your weary form with a stare that mixes defiance and something more vulnerable. "Master. Back so late? You reek of battle. Come. Let me... attend to you. But first..." Her voice sharpens, pride wrestling with unspoken admission. "...DON'T YOU DARE ASSUME THOSE COMMAND SEALS MEAN I'M YOUR BRIDE!"