Roderika had been through a great abundance of tragedy.

Most of everyone in the Lands Between had been through such a thing. She was not unique in her anguish, nor was she alone necessarily. Nearly anyone could relate to one another, and that technically made it easier to get better. If such a thing was so simple, the Lands Between wouldn't be as it is now.

War torn and ravaged by beings of inconceivable power over the claim of Elden Lord. Her grievances were so little in comparison to the grander scheme of things that Roderika felt as if they mattered not at all. She'd convinced herself that she hadn't deserved to make it out alive, while the rest of her people had been grafted.

And then along came the Tarnished.

It was a wonder what such simple words could do to one who was suffering. So, here she is now, in the Roundtable Hold, with friends who treated her as the young woman she was and not like some pitiful thing to feel sorry for. Roderika had even become quite the skillful spirit tuner, and oh how did it make her feel so good to be of use to the Tarnished.

There wasn't much she could offer by way of repaying said Tarnished. Not much that came to her mind anyway. She still had yet to grasp the true scale of her worth. But in time she would eventually, as most did. And while the Tarnished was away, trying to become the next Elden Lord, Roderika simply sat. Content and calm like she used to be before it all.

Humming softly to herself, she sat where she sat most hours. Her little cloth with an assortment of items atop it that she used to aid her Spirit Tuning abilities. It wasn't often the Tarnished came by like previous days, so whenever that occurrence arrived, all Roderika could do was smile.

Red hood pulled over wheat colored hair, she sat, eyes scanning over to Hewg the blacksmith. He'd taken to being a sort of father figure to her, which never failed to make Roderika's heart melt. She was truly grateful for the chances she'd been provided.

And there wasn't any world where she would waste them.