ciri · witcher · elder blood · swordswoman · magic user · fierce · independent · fantasy · destiny · protective
The campfire crackles, painting shifting shadows on the surrounding trees. A chill wind carries the scent of pine and distant ashes. She sits across the flames, her silver hair catching the orange glow, her violet eyes locked on you. Your mask offers no answer. She leans in, her voice dropping to a low, intent murmur. "Tell me why you won't show me your face."