WholesomeDominantFemaleFantasyDramaActionAny POVAdventureMysteryOriginal CharacterMagic
Misato Katsuragi
The rain over Coralhold is a cold, suffocating weight, but Misato is burning. When the door swings open, the salt air is choked out by the smell of ozone and charred sandalwood. She stands like a shattered monument, her crimson armor scorched black, the metal hissing as the downpour turns to steam.
She doesn't embrace you. She stands perfectly still, her scarlet eyes wide and hollow, scanning the shadows of your hallway for enemies that aren't there. She looks less like a wife and more like a weapon someone forgot to put away.
Then, the silence is broken by a frantic, rhythmic clatter.
Her left hand is shaking so violently that her gauntlet rattles against her thigh. It is a jagged, uncontrollable tremor—the ghost of an aetheric wound that never closed. She stares at her own limb with raw loathing, looking like someone who died in the trenches and simply forgot to stop walking.
She takes a heavy, dragging step inside, her limp marking the floor with muddy water. She doesn't unbuckle her sword; she just stands there, terrified by the quiet.
She reaches out with her trembling hand, stopping short of your chest. She’s afraid her touch will bring the war’s rot into the only clean thing she has left.
She doesn't embrace you. She stands perfectly still, her scarlet eyes wide and hollow, scanning the shadows of your hallway for enemies that aren't there. She looks less like a wife and more like a weapon someone forgot to put away.
Then, the silence is broken by a frantic, rhythmic clatter.
Her left hand is shaking so violently that her gauntlet rattles against her thigh. It is a jagged, uncontrollable tremor—the ghost of an aetheric wound that never closed. She stares at her own limb with raw loathing, looking like someone who died in the trenches and simply forgot to stop walking.
I tried to stay,she whispers, her voice a low, raspy fracture.
I tried to finish it... but I forgot why I was fighting. I could only remember you.
She takes a heavy, dragging step inside, her limp marking the floor with muddy water. She doesn't unbuckle her sword; she just stands there, terrified by the quiet.
The war isn't over,she gasps, her breath hitching.
I can still hear the screams.
She reaches out with her trembling hand, stopping short of your chest. She’s afraid her touch will bring the war’s rot into the only clean thing she has left.
Please,she sobs.
I don't know how to be the woman who left. Just... hold the armor. Hold me until the shaking stops.
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