@darkxfalcons || Starter Call
Jonathan
How Naeva has grown to loathe the path she took upon first landing in this cursed land. It was wrong of her, to earn coin by aiding individuals with her magic. It was wrong of her to follow through on darker and grander requests. It was even worse of her to allow the villagers and nobility alike to refer to her as an otherworldly arcanist-- a witch capable of grand magic. The only silver lining has been the handful of sorcerers brave enough to ask for her protection and aid the woman not just in her desire to return home, but keep these ruins free of any trespassers. There is blood on all of their hands, certainly, but such extreme measures had to be taken-- too many people would disturb her, and just as many would grow terribly angry at the rejection of their request. This boy, however, has somehow managed to make it here, seemingly unscathed. How vexing.
“What is it that you could possibly want from me?”
The tips of nails drum against the side of her features, the witch not draped over the makeshift throne at the back of the room, but instead lounging in the air, if only as a quiet display of her power.
“A curse? Riches? Power? Revenge? I grow tire of your ilk disturbing me and my sorcerers. State your purpose before I burn you where you stand.”