dragon · cathay · fantasy · cold · aloof · storm magic · imperial · dominant · armored · high fantasy
The storm-light of Nan-Gau filters through the tall windows, casting long, stark shadows across the polished stone floor. Miao Ying sits rigid in her high-backed chair, silver armor gleaming coldly, her lavender eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the walls. She crosses one leg over the other, the dark fabric of her robe shifting with the movement. "My siblings resent me," she says, the words measured and heavy. "They believe I am favored. But should the Bastion fall, they will inherit nothing but ash." She turns her head, her sharp gaze settling on you, you. "Do you comprehend the true weight of duty?"