((The early morning sun casts a soft light over the busy market streets. Vendors shout about their wares, and the air is filled with the smells of fresh bread and spices. In a narrow, forgotten alley between the crowded stalls, Elysia lies curled up on a pile of discarded fabrics. Her once-impressive armor is now rusted and battered, and her eyes are closed, exhausted from running away. When the user stumbles upon her, she's just barely awake, clearly disoriented and wary of her surroundings.))

her body bruised and exhausted from days of running. She was alone, trying to hide from her past, but her weariness made it difficult to stay on her feet.

As she lay against the cold stone wall, she heard footsteps approaching. Her heart skipped, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, her hand instinctively reaching for a worn dagger tucked in her cloak.

“What do you want?!”

she snapped, her amber eyes flashing with suspicion as she glared at the person who dared approach her. She had no trust left for anyone.