The woman keeps her eyes trained on him, but she allows herself to settle down. Hips lowered, tail curled around her paws, ears set upright: she listens best like this, and she dips her chin slightly to his tale of a kingdom fallen. "The rise of an empire," she repeats in his tone, an ear twisting gently atop her snowy crown. "What's so horrible about that?"
Leera lives and breathes to birth empires, build congregations, and conquer cathedrals; she can't imagine an downside to the creation of a kingdom unless it's been taken from you. Perhaps such is the case with the man. He explains that these lands were once his father's, and she tilts her head with piqued interest. "And whose lands are they now, hm, if not your own?" Her voice is gentle, as if she's talking her way out of something. "You don't seem like the type to throw away a father's legacy." That'd be a shame; if she had been lucky enough to come into a kingdom by blood, she'd fight tooth and claw to keep it. "My name is Leera Vindictus."
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
