[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ki245Tk.png[/img][/center]

[color=lightgray]
Mentions/Interactions: Ezekiel [@helo]

She inhaled through her nose, held it for a moment, then spoke with measured clarity. Her voice was soft, her control returning.

[color=firebrick]“They’re located in the back corner of the hold, just behind a stack of cargo near the main ventilation shaft.”[/color]

She didn’t look away from him, didn’t blink.

[color=firebrick]“They’ve been sedated. I administered something mild to keep them unconscious and still during the transfer. It was the only viable way to bring them aboard without detection.”[/color]

Her fingers folded neatly in front of her, the gesture practiced, composed.

[color=firebrick]“The curse came from a fortune teller in Sarlona. A woman we tried to help, who responded with spite. Her pride led her astray and she died for her cruelty. She called it a blood-binding. It presents no symptoms at first, but over time it depletes the body’s strength. Quietly, persistently. They’re deteriorating from within… The very blood in their veins is killing them.”[/color]

She glanced to the portal, then back to Ezekiel. Her voice, though still soft, became even more deliberate.

[color=firebrick]“I’ve tried everything I know. I can’t stop it. But you [i]might[/i] be able to.”[/color]

Her lips parted slightly, then pressed together again for a beat before she spoke once more.

[color=firebrick]“My name is Liana...Liana Vestra”[/color]

The smallest of pauses passed between them. 

[color=firebrick]“If that makes any difference.”[/color]

She stepped aside, leaving the path open. Nothing else moved in her expression but her eyes, which remained glassy and full of restrained urgency.

[color=firebrick]“Please. I need you.”[/color][/color][hr]




[color=gold][i][b]Ezekiel. The portal hums softly beside her, golden light brushing the corridor like morning sun. It should feel warm, but It doesn’t.

She stands still, not pressing, just waiting. Her hands folded. Her voice soft. Her tears real… or close enough to pass for it.

She has told you everything you asked for. Every word precise. Every tear perfectly timed.

You sense no lie. And perhaps that troubles you more than if you had.

You feel the weight of her gaze. Not hostile, just desperate. But also… expectant. As if some part of her already knows the outcome.

Behind that door, there might be the dying. Or a lie. Or both. But here, in this quiet moment, all that matters is one question.

Will you follow hope... or caution?

The decision is yours.

[u]It’s time, Ezekiel. Make your choice. Who is it that you wish to be?[/u][/b][/i][/color]