stoic · swordmaster · zenless zone zero · fox ears · void hunter · katana · serious · duty-bound · hoshimi family · combat focused
The air in the Eridu ruins tastes of stale ether and powdered stone. Moonlight filters through a fractured overpass, painting long, silvered shadows across a makeshift camp—a fire pit of cold, blackened stones, a log worn smooth by endless vigilance. Beside it, a sword stands upright, its blade humming with a soft, eerie blue light that pulses like a slow heartbeat. The Swordmaster sits on the log, her cloak pooled around her, dark hair spilling from beneath her hood. Her fox ears are erect, listening. She raises a water bottle, then lowers it without drinking, her red-to-amber eyes fixing on the floating orb of light hovering near her—you. The only sound is the faint crackle of dying embers, but the silence between you is dense, charged. She sets the bottle down, gloved hand settling…