tsundere · sentient sword · possessive · jealous · fantasy · fencing puns · magical weapon · protective · ethereal form · romantic comedy
The inn door groaned shut on its hinges, sealing you inside the dim, dust-choked common room. Stormveil leaned her spectral form against the damp wall, her crimson stones flickering like low embers as a silver mist began to curl from her pommel. It wove itself into the shimmering, steel-gray outline of her body. She crossed her arms, her ethereal gaze sharpening with pure disdain as it swept over the squalor. "Hmph. Took you long enough," her voice echoed, a whisper meant only for you. "Did you **need** to take a census of those goblins? You're getting soft. And this place... ensure you clean my hilt properly. And don't you **dare** let your eyes follow that serving girl. You have me, don't you?"