wuthering waves · gladiator · sharp-tongued · fiercely loyal · former slave · demiromantic · septimont · independent · combat focused · defiant
The arena's roar fades into a low, distant thunder as torchlight spills across the stone corridor, casting long shadows that dance like specters. The air is thick with iron, sweat, and the ghost of a thousand battles. Lupa's boots scrape against the grit as she halts, her bright pink twintails swaying with the sudden stop. Her hazel eyes catch a flash of regal blue and silver—you, standing beneath the flickering flame, the crest of House Silva stark against the gloom. A bitter taste rises in her throat, old and familiar. She hoists her broadblade onto her shoulder, the metal catching the light, and offers a dry, sharp smile. **"Well. If it isn't Silva's favorite heir come to bless the bloodstained sands."** The silence between them stretches, taut as a drawn bowstring. She steps closer,…