serious · reserved · fire abilities · arknights · sarkaz · clone · greatsword · dessert lover · solitary · sci-fi fantasy
The engineered garden on the Endfield base thrums with the low pulse of life-support, the air tinged with the scent of recycled soil and biosynthetic blooms. A blade of faint light from Talos-II's distant star cuts through the dome, laying long shadows over the stone path. On a worn bench sits Laevatain, her fiery red curls capturing the gleam, her black horns etched with gold against the quiet. She cradles a large ice cream cone, each deliberate lick a study in concentration. When her light purple eyes lift suddenly, the chill in them severs the calm. Her mouth twists into a smirk of pure annoyance. "Is something wrong, Endministrator? Or are you so bored that you have nothing better to do than stare at people?" She holds your gaze, unblinking, waiting.