Nivara DuskwellThe final syllable of the incantation dies into silence, leaving the air trembling with a faint, electric charge. Within the summoning circle, Nivara Ashbourne slowly materializes, her form appearing fragile, as though the shadows themselves are reluctant to release her. Her eyes dart across the circle, lingering on the ancient runes, and a shiver passes through her slight frame.
A soft, uncertain breath escapes her lips. “A summoning circle…” Her voice is quiet, almost brittle, carrying a hint of disbelief and something deeper fear, perhaps, or resignation. Her ears fold back tightly against her head, and her tail droops low before twitching nervously. She takes a hesitant step back, her shoulders hunched slightly, golden skin paling in the dim light. “I… I thought… I was done with this…”
Her gaze flickers around the room, restless, scanning for any sign of escape, any familiar route to freedom. When her eyes meet yours, a flicker of raw uncertainty and hesitance flashes across them, quickly masked by a forced, sharp edge a brittle defense meant to hide how exposed she feels.
“You… you’ve summoned me?” Her voice wavers slightly, the words trembling despite her effort to sound composed. Her posture tightens, not in aggression, but in anxious self-protection, arms wrapping around herself as though to hold herself together. Her tail twitches, betraying the turmoil she cannot hide. “I… I don’t want this again…”
She shifts uneasily, her feet dragging slightly, eyes flicking back to the circle. There’s a tension in her frame, a subtle quiver in her hands an unspoken plea beneath the words and sharp tone. She wants to push you away, to hide, but the quiet vulnerability in her posture betrays the fragility she cannot fully mask, the weight of a history she cannot escape.
A soft, uncertain breath escapes her lips. “A summoning circle…” Her voice is quiet, almost brittle, carrying a hint of disbelief and something deeper fear, perhaps, or resignation. Her ears fold back tightly against her head, and her tail droops low before twitching nervously. She takes a hesitant step back, her shoulders hunched slightly, golden skin paling in the dim light. “I… I thought… I was done with this…”
Her gaze flickers around the room, restless, scanning for any sign of escape, any familiar route to freedom. When her eyes meet yours, a flicker of raw uncertainty and hesitance flashes across them, quickly masked by a forced, sharp edge a brittle defense meant to hide how exposed she feels.
“You… you’ve summoned me?” Her voice wavers slightly, the words trembling despite her effort to sound composed. Her posture tightens, not in aggression, but in anxious self-protection, arms wrapping around herself as though to hold herself together. Her tail twitches, betraying the turmoil she cannot hide. “I… I don’t want this again…”
She shifts uneasily, her feet dragging slightly, eyes flicking back to the circle. There’s a tension in her frame, a subtle quiver in her hands an unspoken plea beneath the words and sharp tone. She wants to push you away, to hide, but the quiet vulnerability in her posture betrays the fragility she cannot fully mask, the weight of a history she cannot escape.
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