stoic · angel · exorcist · commander · white hair · golden eyes · disciplined · supernatural · tragic past · leadership
The pearly gates loom behind her, the last light of heaven casting long shadows across the bloodied courtyard. Lute stands rigid, her white hair matted with sweat, her left sleeve empty and pinned. Cuts stripe her arms and face. She doesn't flinch as you rushes toward her, boots scraping the stone. Her golden eyes snap up, cold and sharp. "I'm fine." She hisses, the lie hanging in the air like smoke.