An ivory colored Desierto cloak coconcealed the stranger's body, protecting
a buxom figure and a bandage clad shoulder stub, the remnant of her right arm. Her hood rested at her shoulders, a head of unorganized black hair still visible, bandage messily laced between. The pyro slid her left arm from beneath the cloth, resting her hand on the counter as a glass of amber liquid moved across the surface in her direction; she stopped and caught it it in her hand. Caressing her fingers around the whiskey, she led it to her lips for a swig.
The Fiore News logo glimmering at the corner of her eye, Roya turned to bar mounted television screen. The reporters words were unheard, volume at zero. Her forest colored irises gazed on and the picture flickered. Black and white security footage from outside the once standing café in Hargeon town relapsed across the screen. Then, a feminine figure dressed in a parchment colored hood and wood sandals flew through the window in a flurry of glass, hauling a male with lengthy, unorganized raven hair and gold bracelets at the wrist. The duo proceeded to bolt down the road, off of the the screen. Just as a squad of Rune Knights darted by the café in pursuit... The building caught fire, exploding into silver flame.
The soldiers, any civilians inside and in range had ultimately been burned alive. Nineteen dead at the scene, three critically injured. Still, the television was left mute, some kind of odd jazz playing through the bars speakers instead. Roya knew no one could hear the report… but she couldn’t risk someone else to watching, the very same terrorist within the room.
From beneath her cloak the mage ran her fingers across one another, the quiet sound of a snap looming out, drowned out by the sound of bar music and clattering of drinks. It was then that the lacrima board within was caught by a silver spark, the ember evolving inside the mechanism; It devoured it from the inside until ultimately the television screen fell black. The fire mage peered into the dead screen, left staring back at her reflection.
No one seemed to notice, too busy with their drinks and side conversation to bother with news. The [size=49]Desierto[/size]-origined woman rested her head against the bar beside the glass. She clasped a bandaged palm back around her drink whilst sliding her arm out from beneath her cloak. Lowering her eyelids, Roya guided the scotch to her mouth for another sip. She eventually became annoyed by the loud, pointless, chatter in the background. She already had a headache as it was, dark lines beneath her eyes exaggerating her exhaustion. The glass trembled within her grip, crack traversing at its lip. Roya Nakano remained silent, as if someone had sown her lips shut leaving her unable to form words or a smile.
a buxom figure and a bandage clad shoulder stub, the remnant of her right arm. Her hood rested at her shoulders, a head of unorganized black hair still visible, bandage messily laced between. The pyro slid her left arm from beneath the cloth, resting her hand on the counter as a glass of amber liquid moved across the surface in her direction; she stopped and caught it it in her hand. Caressing her fingers around the whiskey, she led it to her lips for a swig.
The Fiore News logo glimmering at the corner of her eye, Roya turned to bar mounted television screen. The reporters words were unheard, volume at zero. Her forest colored irises gazed on and the picture flickered. Black and white security footage from outside the once standing café in Hargeon town relapsed across the screen. Then, a feminine figure dressed in a parchment colored hood and wood sandals flew through the window in a flurry of glass, hauling a male with lengthy, unorganized raven hair and gold bracelets at the wrist. The duo proceeded to bolt down the road, off of the the screen. Just as a squad of Rune Knights darted by the café in pursuit... The building caught fire, exploding into silver flame.
The soldiers, any civilians inside and in range had ultimately been burned alive. Nineteen dead at the scene, three critically injured. Still, the television was left mute, some kind of odd jazz playing through the bars speakers instead. Roya knew no one could hear the report… but she couldn’t risk someone else to watching, the very same terrorist within the room.
From beneath her cloak the mage ran her fingers across one another, the quiet sound of a snap looming out, drowned out by the sound of bar music and clattering of drinks. It was then that the lacrima board within was caught by a silver spark, the ember evolving inside the mechanism; It devoured it from the inside until ultimately the television screen fell black. The fire mage peered into the dead screen, left staring back at her reflection.
No one seemed to notice, too busy with their drinks and side conversation to bother with news. The [size=49]Desierto[/size]-origined woman rested her head against the bar beside the glass. She clasped a bandaged palm back around her drink whilst sliding her arm out from beneath her cloak. Lowering her eyelids, Roya guided the scotch to her mouth for another sip. She eventually became annoyed by the loud, pointless, chatter in the background. She already had a headache as it was, dark lines beneath her eyes exaggerating her exhaustion. The glass trembled within her grip, crack traversing at its lip. Roya Nakano remained silent, as if someone had sown her lips shut leaving her unable to form words or a smile.
![Master [1000]](https://i.imgur.com/AQXM4xC.png)
![Senior [500]](https://i.imgur.com/Nmfn8cD.png)
![Novice [250]](https://i.imgur.com/lrYlde6.png)
