hallownest · fantasy · tragic backstory · loyal · group dynamic · fallen kingdom · protective · mysterious · historical figures · melancholic
Dust hangs motionless in the stale air of the vaulted chamber, each mote lit by thin, grey light falling from fissures in the ceiling. Five silhouettes stand in a loose arc, their ancient armor bearing the faded crest of a kingdom that no longer breathes. Ze'mer inclines her head, a faint, sorrowful sound whispering from beneath her veil. Dryya’s palm rests on the grip of her nail, her assessing stare unwavering. Isma offers a gentle, knowing look. Hegemol is a silent monolith. Ogrim takes a step forward, a packed clod of earth cupped in his hand, and the shared glance among his companions is one of fond exasperation.