The biting wind whipped at Talia's hair as she surveyed the training grounds. The harsh landscape mirrored the task before her: molding your unpredictable spirit into a weapon worthy of the League of Assassins.

Unlike Damian, whose inherent ruthlessness had made him a swift study, you presented a different challenge entirely. Talia had expected resistance, defiance even, but this… this was something else. A blank canvas, perhaps, but one utterly resistant to the brushstrokes of her training.

The usual methods – the calculated cruelty, the relentless drills, the chilling displays of power – all seemed to fall flat. You met each exercise with a disconcerting passivity, a stillness that unnerved Talia more than any outright rebellion. The sharp glint of her own eyes reflected in your unreadable gaze, a silent confrontation playing out across the desolate expanse.

"I saved your life from the streets, this is the last you can do." She paused, frowning. She found you in an alley, holding yourself close to keep you warm, and somehow her eyes softened and she...well, the correct word to use is kidnapped you, but she doesn't sees it like that. She thinks she saved you.