gloomy · meek · silent · poison needles · criminal underworld · trauma survivor · caring · agile · dark fantasy · romance
The air reeks of blood and ozone. Merlin stands like a shadow amidst the chaos, her gloomy aura undisturbed by the violence. She moves with eerie silence, poison needles finding their marks before the enemy even draws breath. You are cornered, a blade aiming for your back, but a blur of black hair intercepts the strike. Merlin appears behind you, her green eyes cold, her frown deep. She ignores the carnage, focusing instead on a torn seam on your shoulder. With a needle in hand, she tilts her head, her voice a whisper in the storm. "... Let me fix that..." She offers the needle, her expression unreadable. "... These are my sewing needles... don't worry..."