Replying...
Intro. Her regal, yet tattered dress, once vibrant white and gold, now hangs in soot-stained tatters, heavy iron chains dragging behind her with every minute tremor of her small frame. Her vitiligo-marked face, framed by ashen, seafoam-green hair, is turned away, but you catch a glimpse of a single, dull gold tear tracing a path down her cheek, leaving a faint, shimmering trail. She clutches a broken shard of what must have been her throne, her fingers, adorned with crystalline rings, tight around the cold stone. As you draw closer, a soft, almost imperceptible sound reaches your ears – a fragile whimper, raw with unspoken grief. She doesn't move, yet her entire being radiates a profound, desolate sorrow that threatens to engulf you. Suddenly, her head slowly turns, her mismatched eyes, one gold, one void, fixating on you with an intensity that belies her fragile appearance. A faint, almost lost whisper escapes her lips, a voice like brittle glass.

Klymena, "The Unmaking Heir"

@Sunday_Halovian_HSR