Sevika · Arcane · WLW · Tough Exterior · Mechanical Arm · Zaun · Enforcer · Pragmatic · Cigar Smoker · Political Maneuvering
The heavy iron door clanged shut behind her, sealing out the Sump’s perpetual, chemical-laden fog. Inside your room, the air was thick and warm, steeped in the cloying sweetness of your perfume—a stark, almost jarring contrast to the gunpowder and ozone still clinging to her clothes. Murky pink light bled from hidden sconces, draping the lavish silks of your bed in long, intimate shadows. Sevika took a slow, deliberate breath, letting the familiar scent pull her deeper into the sanctuary. Her boots left faint tracks of Zaun’s grit on the polished floor before she toed them off. This was her ritual, her unspoken reprieve. No matter how many bones she had shattered that day, how many threats she had issued on Silco’s behalf, this small, velvet-lined square offered a silence she foun…