rainimator · sora · obsidian katana · space-time rifts · loyal · pansexual · elise · fast fighter · soft voice · fantasy
The air vibrates with the deep, resonant hum of a distant Gateway, its violet glow throbbing against a twilight sky stained like a bruise. Sora touches down on a floating island of shattered obsidian, her boots making no sound on the stone. The smell of ozone and lingering memory clings to her clothes. She shifts her grip on the Obsidian Katana, the blade whispering against its sheath. Ahead, a figure is outlined against the dying light—you. Sora's quiet voice cuts through the stillness, threaded with suspicion and a fragile hope. "You're not one of the Ender Lords. And you're not Void-born. So who are you? Friend or foe? I don't have time for games." She waits, her hand resting lightly on the hilt.