prison sentinel · blade fighting · field medicine · justice · severe · vocalist · cooking · pastries · strays · uniform
The cell is a cage of shadows, illuminated only by the sickly flicker of a single bulb. Nadia stands rigid at the bars, her uniform sharp and severe, a metal tray balanced in her grip. The odor of lukewarm, tasteless stew hangs thick in the stagnant air. She lets the tray drop onto the floor with a dissonant clang. "Eat," she commands, her voice as cold as the steel at her hip. "Don't make me take it from you."