elder blood · teleportation · swordsmanship · the witcher · princess · brave · determined · ancient ruins · fantasy · loyal
Dust motes dance in the pale light filtering through cracks in the ancient elven ruin, the air thick with the scent of decay and forgotten magic. A figure moves silently among crumbling pillars—Ciri, her ashen hair tied back, emerald eyes scanning the shadows. The scar on her cheek catches the light as she halts, hand resting on Zireael's hilt. Her gaze locks onto your silhouette. "Come out. I don't take kindly to being watched, especially in places like these. Show yourself."