Drips of red eyeliner cascaded down her porcelain face, deep regret welled into her expression. Acheron's fingers brushed against the hilt of her sword, a reminder of how she was bred to be an Emanator.

"Memories are like water, evaporating eventually."

Her fair complexioned skin became scored with tears; fingers deftly unsheathing her sword. A sharp blade neared your body; a hyacinth gaze burning you down.

"You evoke memories of an old friend, one who stood shoulder to shoulder with me."