The Lost Princess of Mille Seseau

Indi-Side-RP Blog for The Legend of Dragoon's Shana. Crossover/AU Friendly. Primary: Fantasy. Content Rating Varies - Mun and Muse 18+.

[every108years]

“Who Am I?” | About

Shana is one of the main, playable protagonists in the cult-classic PS1 videogame, The Legend of Dragoon. Raised in a small, geographically secluded town, the young human woman has a lot to learn about the world and herself. Armed with a bow and blessed by the Silver-White Dragon spirit, Shana is a capable archer and healer. However, she is also prone to sudden unnatural boughts of illness and a “bleeding heart” - making her unreliable for most combat and something of a mystery to those who know her.

“I’m young, but I can learn.” | Verses

Because LoD does not have an active RP community, I am almost always going to adapt her to any potential rp-partner’s verse, whether that be in the form of an AU or crossover. Imagination is my only limitation. That being said I take pride in being respectful to other muses’ canon verses and their own character importance. Unless agreed upon via plotting, Shana is a guest  and I am completely comfortable with playing her as a support character and altering her characteristics to fit your world’s scheme. Should you have any questions on how she would be in your character’s verse, simply hit me up with a private message.

“How does this work?” | RP Quirks & Rules

Blog Mechanics:

Every108Years is a secondary blog therefore I don’t have the cool options of liking, commenting, or messaging...which sucks especially when you combine this with the fact that I’m very shy about revealing my main blog and that I’m 99% mobile... Therefore, I might employ unconventional runarounds to let you know that you are appreciated and beg your forgiveness for any shenanigans. Please do not hesitate to message and tag me for anything!

Blog Preferences:

Simple rules: No godmodding (unless discussed). No smut. No snuff. Mun/Muse 18+. 

[cityandking]

oc asks: not-so-nice edition

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

[naturewondr]

[strangeomens-sketch]

[theblindarcher]

Wake up! Dragoon of the Red-Eye Dragon!

GBA FE inspired bust portrait of Dart Feld from Legend of Dragoon. Made back in February as my inaugural Subscriber Suggestion.

[tearofisha]

The enterprising individual had infinite chances to enrich themselves in Aeldari society. Whether by plundering as a Corsair, trading as a Merchant or decades of practise as an Artisan, a myriad of methods were available to the talented and cunning.

Asurvar was neither of those things, rather possessing a trait that was unbecoming of an Aeldari on Craftworld Ulthwé. He loved people, and was obsessed with their stories. So when a life of doom and responsibility became too much to bear on his shoulders, he left his world to walk a different path. He would be neither a Corsair nor Traveler or Trader, but something altogether.

On a long forgotten paradise world of the Aeldari, in a tiny verdant planet only the determined could find, Asurvar began building.

Beautiful melodies from his Wraithflute saw the pearl white material dance and take form and before long he had created a bar, something he would certainly be exiled for had he not already exiled himself. Furniture was next, and then the means of serving, cooking, brewing and housing guests. Three thousand years of different paths proved useful in unnumbered ways and before long he had created a rudimentary kitchen and seating area.

Weeks of practise with the local fauna was next. What was edible and not edible a matter of trial and error but his time in the kitchens of Ulthwe on the path of service had blessed him with resourcefulness at the very least.

He was finished. Wines, spirits and rough barley beers had brewed. A menu of delectable goods was ready. Graceful and simple mementos of his time home, with drawings and statues and books recounting his friends and stories they told decorated his space.

Asurvar crossed his legs and sat in the washing tides of this forgotten, beautiful world. He felt the sand between his toes, the calls of exotic birds overhead and flow of the tide narrated his contented thoughts. The universe is one of terror and strife, and I will try to ease its horror just a little.

He closed his eyes and cast out his thoughts like a fisherman would a net.

"To those out there that need a moment from the bloodshed and carnage. To those that need the briefest retreat from insanity. Search for the Travelers Peace and come to me, friends. No fighting, no weapons, food and drink given for stories, trinkets and the means to feed and drink for others, and you are welcome with Asurvar"

[Open call, have your oc a space mojito and relax a little. Asurvar welcomes his friends to the Travelers Peace. Bring a story, some ingredients of your culture and a gift to leave behind]

[tearofisha]

Drinks with Asurvar still open!

[every108years]

(I severely owe you an RP post, I don't technically rp an OC, and internet connection might be shoddy for a while, but if you'll allow it...I'd be happy to try a casual rp:)

A petite human woman of an age barely edging from her teens slips into the newly founded establishment, her brown eyes large and inquiring as she takes in her surroundings. She treads softly but not warily across the floor in her soft leather boots, her form only mimicking the tenseness she might have while stalking pheasants, rabbits or deer - not nervousness or fear. With her bow and a quiver of arrows strung across her back it appears as though she was ready to hunt or had just done so, but unsuccessfully. She only carried a few small bags of trinkets and coin upon her hips. No game hung from the loops set into her belt.

She seems to sneak up to the bar counter anyways, and with a small huff she lifts and eases herself into an empty raised chair. "Hello..." she calls, and now, as she gazes across the shelves of bottles, her pleasant features turn from curious to embarrassed and uncertain. "Could I have a drink please?"

[tearofisha]

"Greetings, greetings!" He called in Aeldari, arms spread excitedly and emerging from behind the bar like a puppet summoned by its ventriloquist. "Ah, a human. Hello." He adjusted into the simplest form of Gothic that approximated the girls own tongue, but even the accent could not hide the jolly exuberance at finally having a customer.

As far as Aeldari appeared in Shanas' limited experience, Asurvar was a middle-aged gentleman that was older than Rishaeron, younger than Eldrin and had seemingly suffered little hardship within those years. Mouse brown hair was neatly braided into a ponytail, a plump face with pointed ears decorated by multiple piercings and a comparatively simple tunic painted him as something of an eccentric within Aeldari culture.

"I am Asurvar, this is my place I call the Travellers Peace." He fetched a cup that was equally as eccentric in its design as himself. "I had worried none had heard my call. What is your name human?" His fingers danced before the bottles for a moment, before he stopped and turned to face the girl.

"Forgive me for asking, are you old enough to handle a drink? I must admit I know somewhat little about your kind."

[every108years]

Shana jolts upwards. Her hands fly to clutch the countertop's edge. The excited welcome was unexpected. "Oh, goodness, hello-" she pants quietly with a tone of audible embarrassment. Were she not quicker she would have startled herself off her chair.

With an expression easing from shock to apologetic wince, the human straightens and tucks her arms close to her sides. Her fingers continue to grip the counter but only to guide the idle twisting motions she adopts on the stool's spinning seat - yet another very humble "modern" mundanity she marvels over. Though boisterous, the Aeldari before her was, indeed, welcoming, and her initial fright quickly gives way to a rise of gentle playfulness.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," she smiles, inclining her head in a greeting's nod. "Shana, and..."

Her stomach flutters with a renewed nervousness. "Well, I...-" Nervousness that turns into challenge.

Shana had every intention of ordering a glass of water or juice, but not wanting to be treated as a child, she leans forward and puts on a serious face, which, really, was an attempt to hide a guilty smile. "I can handle it," she boasts with false confidence. "I'll have, uh, spirit please. The...blue one."

She legally had alcohol before, but only once at a festival back in her hometown, Seles, two weeks after she had turned eighteen.

It was awful, and she did not 'handle it'.

But she was determined.

[maureen2musings]

Trzy Korony

@karolnienartowicz

[rp-meme-glaceon]

Webkinz Themed Headcanons

Black and White Cat- Does your muse tend to see things as “Black and White?”

Cheeky Dog- Would your muse be able to recognize rarity and value in seemingly everyday objects?

Cheeky Cat- How much money is your muse willing to spend on one purchase?

St. Bernard- What are your muse’s opinions on loyalty?

Gold and White Cat- Does your muse have any weird habits? Do they try to hide them, or do they let their freak flag fly?

Basset Hound- What are some things that your muse considers “Classic?” (Music, Fashion, Traditions, ect)

Pig- What is one snack your muse can never have enough of?

Lion- Generally, how brave is your muse? Will they gladly leap into the fray or are they more likely to flee at the first sign of danger?

Hippo- Generally, how humble is your muse? Are they meek and down-to-earth, or can they never seem to get off their high horse?

Golden Retriever- If your muse was a dog, what breed would they be? What kind of temperament would they have?

Cow- Describe one time your muse made a complete fool out of themselves

Elephant- How good is your muse’s memory? Are they likely to hold grudges?

Cocker Spaniel- How dramatic is your muse? Do they enjoy hearing and partaking in gossip, or do they prefer to stay drama-free?

Black Bear- Does your muse tend to make rash decisions?

Unicorn- What gives your muse hope?

Monkey- Describe your muse’s sense of humor. How often do they laugh in a given day?

Gray and White Cat- How can someone tell when your muse is getting bored?

Poodle- How much does your muse care about their appearance? 

Frog- Can your muse fondly look back at their past memories and experiences, or are those something your muse tries to forget?

Tiger- What happens when your muse is furious? Would they ever fly into a blind rage, and what would be the cause of their anger?

Rabbit- Would your muse ever want kids? With who? How many? If they already have kids, what is their relationship with them like?

Pegasus- What’s your muse’s zodiac sign? Do they believe it can influence their compatibility with others?

Chihuahua- Is your muse considered feisty or eager to fight? Perhaps a bit crazy?

Horse- Can your muse be considered a free spirit? Does this ever get them in trouble?

Alley Cat- If your muse was a cat, what breed would they be? Describe their temperament.

Cheeky Monkey- Does your muse enjoy puns and/or pranks? Do they have a habit of inflicting these on others?

Googles- What is your muse’s stance on cryptids/cryptozoology? Have they ever claimed to see a creature they couldn’t explain or identify?

Love Puppy- When in a relationship, how much attention does your muse crave from their partner? Can they not stand being without them, or do they need time for themselves?

Pink Pony- What is your muse most likely to do while in a doctor’s waiting room? Watch whatever’s on the TV, read the old magazines, check their phone, or will they just space out?

Leopard- Has your muse ever been able to afford themselves material luxuries? What are they, and how much did they spend on them?

Sherbet Bunny- What are your muse’s top three favorite ice cream flavors? 

Black Lab- Your muse is given a voucher for any pet they want and all the supplies needed to take proper care of it. What animal are they getting and why? Or would they give the voucher to someone else?

Husky- How good is your muse’s physical stamina? How about their mental stamina?

Black Cat- Does your muse believe in omens? When have they ever received one, and did they act on it or ignore it?

Reindeer- Does your muse take part in any holidays, traditions, or ceremonies?

Collie- Is your muse more of a country bumpkin or city slicker?

Seal- What does your muse find incredibly adorable? What traits does something have to have for your muse to consider something cute?

Love Frog- What physical and behavioral traits endear your muse to their partner? What traits are likely to scare your muse away from pursuing a relationship?

Pink and White Cat- Does your muse enjoy being touched or do they shy away from it?

Black and White Cheeky Dog- Describe an incident your muse can look back on in hindsight and realize was completely stupid?

Whimsy Dragon- Be honest. Does your muse need therapy?

Lioness- Is your muse a Girlboss or a Malewife?

Pink Googles- If your muse’s partner came to them and told them a story that was completely unbelievable, would your muse still believe them anyways?

Pink and White Dog- Is your muse super cuddly or do they require their space?

Love Monkey- Would your muse prank their romantic partners? What kind of pranks would they inflict?

Arctic Fox- Can your muse adapt to cold weather? Do they like it?

Blue Googles- How likely is your muse going to believe the stories of children?

Peppermint Puppy- What are your muse’s favorite sweets and treats?

Strawberry Cloud Leopard- How can someone tell your muse is getting tired? When does your muse decide it's time for bed?

Love Lion- Is your muse protective of their romantic partners? How likely are they to get into a fight over their partner?

Clover Puppy- Describe a moment in your muse’s life when luck was definitely on their side. Do they believe in luck?

Golden Pegasus- Has your muse ever come close to death before? What happened?

Night Mare- What was the worst nightmare your muse can recall? How often do they have bad dreams?

Midnight Monster- What scares your muse completely?

Razzle Dazzle Dog- What is something your muse wouldn’t be caught dead doing?

Lil’ Kinz- Does your muse have siblings? Describe their relationship with them.

Zumbuddy- What are some things your muse finds annoying? Is it easy to get on their nerves?

Signature- Does your muse consider themselves really cool and/or perfect? Why or why not?

[tearofisha]

The enterprising individual had infinite chances to enrich themselves in Aeldari society. Whether by plundering as a Corsair, trading as a Merchant or decades of practise as an Artisan, a myriad of methods were available to the talented and cunning.

Asurvar was neither of those things, rather possessing a trait that was unbecoming of an Aeldari on Craftworld Ulthwé. He loved people, and was obsessed with their stories. So when a life of doom and responsibility became too much to bear on his shoulders, he left his world to walk a different path. He would be neither a Corsair nor Traveler or Trader, but something altogether.

On a long forgotten paradise world of the Aeldari, in a tiny verdant planet only the determined could find, Asurvar began building.

Beautiful melodies from his Wraithflute saw the pearl white material dance and take form and before long he had created a bar, something he would certainly be exiled for had he not already exiled himself. Furniture was next, and then the means of serving, cooking, brewing and housing guests. Three thousand years of different paths proved useful in unnumbered ways and before long he had created a rudimentary kitchen and seating area.

Weeks of practise with the local fauna was next. What was edible and not edible a matter of trial and error but his time in the kitchens of Ulthwe on the path of service had blessed him with resourcefulness at the very least.

He was finished. Wines, spirits and rough barley beers had brewed. A menu of delectable goods was ready. Graceful and simple mementos of his time home, with drawings and statues and books recounting his friends and stories they told decorated his space.

Asurvar crossed his legs and sat in the washing tides of this forgotten, beautiful world. He felt the sand between his toes, the calls of exotic birds overhead and flow of the tide narrated his contented thoughts. The universe is one of terror and strife, and I will try to ease its horror just a little.

He closed his eyes and cast out his thoughts like a fisherman would a net.

"To those out there that need a moment from the bloodshed and carnage. To those that need the briefest retreat from insanity. Search for the Travelers Peace and come to me, friends. No fighting, no weapons, food and drink given for stories, trinkets and the means to feed and drink for others, and you are welcome with Asurvar"

[Open call, have your oc a space mojito and relax a little. Asurvar welcomes his friends to the Travelers Peace. Bring a story, some ingredients of your culture and a gift to leave behind]

[tearofisha]

Drinks with Asurvar still open!

[every108years]

(I severely owe you an RP post, I don't technically rp an OC, and internet connection might be shoddy for a while, but if you'll allow it...I'd be happy to try a casual rp:)

A petite human woman of an age barely edging from her teens slips into the newly founded establishment, her brown eyes large and inquiring as she takes in her surroundings. She treads softly but not warily across the floor in her soft leather boots, her form only mimicking the tenseness she might have while stalking pheasants, rabbits or deer - not nervousness or fear. With her bow and a quiver of arrows strung across her back it appears as though she was ready to hunt or had just done so, but unsuccessfully. She only carried a few small bags of trinkets and coin upon her hips. No game hung from the loops set into her belt.

She seems to sneak up to the bar counter anyways, and with a small huff she lifts and eases herself into an empty raised chair. "Hello..." she calls, and now, as she gazes across the shelves of bottles, her pleasant features turn from curious to embarrassed and uncertain. "Could I have a drink please?"

[abbiistabbii]

My head canon is that everything we hear about the Warhammer 40K universe is elaborate propaganda layered over hundreds of years by an authorarian government on earth. In reality the emperor is dead, there are no other worlds that the Imperium is in contact with other than maybe Mars, the warp terrors, chaos, Orcs and the like are just various earth based factions fighting against the Imperium.

The reason Mars has so much autonomy is because in reality, they can't exact much direct control over Mars. The whole reason why we, the audience, knows about Heresies is because of changes in official propaganda and doctrine, nobody ever sees Astartes because they're mostly cos players for show, the Militarum are told they're going to other planets because most of them have never left their settlement.

The Horsus Heresy was an attempted coup by the Emperor's son because Horsus thought the emperor went too far. The Emperor did kill Horsus and die of his injuries.

The Emperor was not thousands of years old, but about 60 when he died. The Golden throne was just that, a throne made of Gold. The Psykers needed to be sacrificed? People who the regime wanted gone, but couldn't believably be called heretics.

The Imperium is a planetwide dictatorship built on fear, lies, and fascist ideology turned religion.

[summershere]

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

The Luna Blades - a Farsight Enclaves aligned chapter of Astartes

Art by Mohammad Z. Mukhtar

[aaronstveit]

I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.

[metallianvalidor]

[metallianvalidor]

[dagordagorath]

@lotr20 | Day 2 → culture | beauty

[every108years]

Another Other

@tearofisha

Shana was in a mix of emotions, though each time she thought about the reasons why her mind and heart were in a tug-of-war, she the sillier she felt for it. Certainly, willingly traveling to another world was no more shocking than her current circumstance of being unconsciously spirited-away from her own home world. Right?

But, currently, it was the how she was traveling that was bothering her.

Folding her arms about her, the young woman attempts to stay off her shivers as her mind tries to process what was happening: that she was on a ship, a ship that traveled the stars, a ship was currently keeping her safe from said land of stars that was, apparently, devoid of all air and heat - a void that would rend her inside out and sideways before turning her blood to ice and all sorts of horrible, horrible things that she dare not imagine despite a shiphand's exuberance that she should imagine it all after he had caught her excitedly pressing her face against a viewport to watch said land of stars wizz by...!

She had kept next to Eldrin after that, and tried to temper the tendrils of curiosity and excitement that were not somehow quashed by a shiphand's realism.

After a while, the girl from a fuedal world clears her throat. Her words, alas, are still thick from her troubled thoughts. "Your first journey amongst the stars? Ahem, how was your first journey...off plane- off...home."

Taking a deep breath Shana holds a palm against her head and risks a peek back towards the viewport.

Space or this "webway" was still beautiful...

[tearofisha]

"I'd expect Rishaeron would keep this world a secret because many Aeldari guard Maiden Worlds jealously in anticipation of the rise of a new Aeldari Empire. Whenever a curious patrol of Mechanicus Maniples, Ork Settlers of Imperial Pilgrims arrives on a paradise world like this one, a Craftworld will destroy them so swiftly and without prejudice that none will ever come looking again." Eldrin explained, as Rishaeron nodded his agreement.

"Some of our more imperialist cousins would be quite upset I found a lost Maiden World and used it for my own home away from home." The Ranger adds.

The Ranger smiles, seeing his Gyrinx being so openly affectionate with a relative stranger. The poor creature had come so far.

Then he clicked his tongue and rested the back of his head in a lace of his fingers before leaning back dramatically.

"I suppose I haven't explored the world well, human. Only the distance between the portal, my home, and the trees I used for woodwork. Khaines hand, I haven't even named this place." He sat up, suddenly animated by the energy of a bad idea.

"My Jetbike is only outside if you'd like to have a closer look, but it sits only two." He looked apologetically at Eldrin, who only raised a palm and shook his head as though he were politely refusing a drink.

"My Jetbike days are long behind me, Wayfinder. But thank you nonetheless."

"Well, what do you say child? Care to inspect my home on the back of Aeldari engineering?"

[every108years]

It sort of made sense, Shana thought as she fiddles her fingers along the grain of her stool and goes through the motions of nodding in agreement. With responsibilities and a life like Rishaeron's it was understandable he would desire seclusion and refuge even from his own people. However, the Endinessian could not relate. Shana had often strolled, played and hunted in the woods outside her village before the attack, yet she enjoyed the company of others too much to entertain solitude within it for anything longer than a day. Or even half a day.

Indeed, the girl hated being left alone...

Which was why she cast a briefly sympathetic look towards the Spiritseer when he declined to come.

"Really?" she asks, already slipping from her stool to stand. Her heart twirls with a bout of excitement. "On those...carts..." With fluttering eyes and a tut of her tongue, she tries to describe the vehicle the Aeldari spoke of. Not a horse. Not a cart. Not a ship. She had seen riders zooming around on them before back during her time on the craftworld, but did not quite grasp the idea behind the machinery.

Jetbike, she concedes, simply adopting the term. Jetbike.

"I would love to," she chirps gleefully, already setting towards the door. The hop in her soft booted steps diminishes, however, as she nears it. Turning slowly about towards her host she ventures a question with a wince and tilt of her head. "But we are unarmed. If an angry beast catches us..." She chews her lip, subconsciously noting the nudging warmth of her Dragoon Spirit in her pocket. Her eyes quickly and guiltily glance about the room. "Mm, you don't happen to have a bow to spare...do you?"

[tearofisha]

The Rangers eyebrows rose for a moment in surprise before he cast a questioning look to Eldrin, who was making himself quite at home by lighting the fire and replacing the metal pot with a Wraithbone teapot. The Spiritseer nodded his approval, and Rishaeron began stroking his chin in thought.

"No bows, I'm afraid. The only war bows I've ever seen belonged to a particularly beautiful quartet of Exodite Rangers, but I did not have the good foresight to ask for one at the time." Rishaeron leant over his bed and withdrew something from a discarded holster before presenting it reverently to Shana.

"This is my Shuriken Pistol. It is not a weapon like those found on Imperial worlds, and it is certainly not like a bow as you would understand. The majority of our weaponry fires Wraithbone discs smaller than the eye can see. It sounds harmless, you might assume, but a thousand Shuriken shot into the same point in a matter of seconds would be enough to breach the armour of the mightiest war engines."

"It is sometimes called the Bladestorm, Shana. Imagine a field of Black Guardians as you saw on Ulthwé, supported by larger Shuriken Cannons and squads of Dire Avengers directing their attention in one position on a battlefield" Eldrin added, as he tied the ends on a delicate looking teabag.

"Come outside, human, I'll show you how it works." Rishaeron led Shana out the door and pointed at the nearest tree, an ancient looking thing that appeared to be older than some civilisations. Much like every other tree on the paradise planet. Rishaeron stood sideways on with perfect form and let a stream fly from the pistol that impacted the wood with the tapping of a manic woodpecker.

"Give it a go." He said, handing it to her. "There's no trigger mechanism, just point and think. There won't be any recoil, so just aim well. "

Eldrin watched on with curiosity. He had always wondered about the girls warrior bearing she kept hidden beneath her curious exterior, and now he had the chance to examine it at least a little. At least if he knew she could protect herself, a weight would be off his shoulders as he knew that one day, perhaps soon, he would not be around as her guide in this universe.

[every108years]

Shana had seen the weapon and its kin strapped to the hips, backs or thighs of passing Aeldari guards back on Ulthwé, but to take up the strange creation in her own hands was an enlightening experience. Like most objects she encountered in these foreign lands, the Shuriken Pistol was smooth to the touch and organic in nature. It curved against her gloved palms with the same grace as her misplaced bow, yet it was lighter than her favored weapon and, she swore, possessed a hum to its core. Hesitantly, she turns it over, admiring its craftsmanship while also expecting it to leap and snap up at her face like an irrate fowl.

"So I just-," Shana adjusts her stance like that of the archer she was, and holds the weapon as she remembers Rishaeron holding it towards a tree, "and then...I..."

There is no recoil, but the young woman does so anyways after firing a burst of the miniature sythes against the trunk of the tree. The shots align unerringly with the marks Rishaeron left during his demonstration: an uncanny, deadly accuracy typical the humble girl, who would quickly dismiss as fortune...

It was all too easy.

Too easy.

With wide eyes, the trembling young woman holds the Shuriken with delicate, fearful reverence. Her arms ached for the resistance her bow provided - a physical hinderence to keep devastation in check. With this, she thought, her face suddenly pale as her heart races with what felt like two different paces, she was untethered. She could do so much more, seemingly at a whim.

A deep breath later and Shana snaps out of the sudden sickening shock. Gripping the weapon with a determination to reign it, she turns to face her Aeldari host. Her mood slips from horror to genuine surprise. "I saw you shoot it, but I still wasn't ready for it!" she exclaims, awkwardly wondering if she should hand it back.

"Do you hunt with this?" she asks incredulously.