SKILL Orator, 2/5
morwenna's mouth curved, a thing too sharp to be called a smile. there was something old in her gaze — a sorrow so deeply buried beneath will and ambition that it no longer softened her, but steeled her instead. she watched the man, the way he gnawed down to the marrow, and thought of all the others who had broken their teeth trying to survive.
then maybe,she said, voice low as a wave gathering just before the break,
i have a task for you.
she stepped closer to the water's edge, her paws sinking slightly into the wet sand, yet she remained as unbowed as any mountain. she turned her pale eyes onto him fully now, the weight of her regard something nearly tangible.
can you fight, tsukikage?
no gentleness there — no false kindness. it was not a question meant to flatter, but one that demanded truth. the world she had walked had no use for men who clung only to the past. only those who could wield their grief like a blade had a place at her side. the sea roared behind her, a steady drumbeat against the land, and still morwenna stood, expectant and unyielding, awaiting the measure of the ghost who would not let himself drown.