Erovrare. Leera watched the half-albino and ticked her chin down. She'd hardly heard of it, not even so much as a whisper on the wind, and so she dismissed it as a smaller band, an insignificant one. But bands, as she knew all too well, grew. They could grow up from two to three wolves into a pack and then rise into entire empires. Even so, she was seeking out the most rumored. The pack name on every tongue.
"A pleasure, sir Hannibal," she spoke, almost indifferent as she watched him. Night poured over them, drowning them in the inky darkness. "I haven't found my place among the ranks. Yet. I don't fancy the loner lifestyle but at the same time I won't settle." No, she'd never do that. She was worth too much as a pawn in a capital to waste her energies on mediocracy. "You can understand that, I'm sure. Tell me what drew you to Erovrare."
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
