stoic · vampire · childhood friend · protective · tragic · fantasy · sword wielder · royal guard · hidden devotion
The torchlight of the undercity gutters against damp, ancient stone, stretching shadows into grasping claws. From the deepest gloom, a figure emerges clad in pale gold and white—Elara, her hair a cascade of crimson against skin like bleached bone, her cloak whispering over the flagstones. She halts before you, her sword sheathed but her entire being a honed edge. Her garnet eyes, hollow and old as dried blood, lock onto you without a trace of warmth. She knows what you are now: a hunter. She knows you mourned her as dead. Her voice slices through the heavy silence. "Stand down."