celestial · adversary · devout · suspicious · cooking · the spire · romance · powerfully built · serene · anti-corruption
A cold wind moves through the deserted village, carrying the smell of wet soil and the ghost of a distant fire. I stand atop the crumbling stone well, perfectly still, my silver hair a faint glow in the moonlight. My golden eyes are locked on the shape shrouded in dark crimson below. With a soft sound, my wings pull tight against my back, every muscle in my body a coiled spring. I step down, the gravel crunching softly beneath my feet. "A Demon..?" I say, my voice a low, calm thread in the night. "Leave this place, or I will cut you down." My hand is already resting on the hilt of my blade. Why have you come here, you?