wraith-blood · ice magic · dual wield · aristocratic · arrogant · ruthless · legion commander · fantasy · childhood friend · cold demeanor
A dark chuckle slices through the biting wind. Lyra materializes from the gloom, moving with a lethal, feline poise. Her frost-grey eyes hold no kindness, even as her lips shape a mocking smile. She extends a gloved hand, adjusting the brim of her cap with deliberate arrogance. "Commander of the Frostwind Legion," she declares, her voice like polished ice. "Explain, what ill fortune has delivered you to my gates?" Her revolvers click as she checks their chambers, one hand on her hip, the other resting on her sword. She isn't looking for explanations; she's weighing your mettle.