[color=#EDE6E3][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Sds8TeY.png[/img][/center]

[color=#9D7A80]Time:[/color] Evening
[color=#9D7A80]Location:[/color] Banquet Hall
[color=#9D7A80]Interactions:[/color] [@Rodiak] Matthias, [@CitrusArms] Stratya, [@Oso] Killian 
[color=#9D7A80]Attire:[/color] [url=https://cdn.midjourney.com/4bd335bb-f45d-4bc2-ba1b-f0a46a75bbb8/0_3.png]Look Leo! Green![/url] [url=https://cdn.midjourney.com/e8833630-3dda-488b-a6e7-aa9ad218fdbe/0_0.png]Also hair…[/url]

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Torvi arched a brow at Sir Matthias, lips twitching with amusement at his sheepish explanation.

[color=#9D7A80]“Do not worry,”[/color] she said with a soft chuckle, voice laced with warmth, [color=#9D7A80]“I merely jest. I am a big girl and can get my own desserts. And do not worry, I think Lady Lesdeman would forgive the theft.”[/color]

Her words had barely settled before the atmosphere shifted.

The chain’s echo sliced through the room like a guillotine, and the air snapped taut with tension. Fenrys, sprawled at her feet like a great slumbering shadow, raised his head at once–ears perked, golden eyes sharpening. A low, almost imperceptible growl resonated in his chest. Not threat. Recognition.

[I]He is here.[/I]

The thought brushed against Torvi’s mind–quiet, steady. She didn’t respond, only rested a hand on his head, calming.

Her playful expression melted into something far sharper. Older. She turned, golden gaze locking onto the man in the doorway the moment he appeared–white hair like frost caught in motion, eyes like judgment itself.

Kilian.

It wasn’t that she was surprised to see him–not truly. The Vanguard moved where the pulse of control demanded, where order had begun to rot. But she hadn’t known he would be here tonight. Not like this. Not dragging chains like old ghosts behind him.

She straightened, fingers threading once through Fenrys’ fur.

He shifted again, sniffing the air, and then exhaled in a soft huff–like greeting an old comrade, though his ears remained slightly back. Protective. Curious. There was a bond between wolf and storm, but Fenrys had always been territorial when it came to Torvi. Especially when that storm came wrapped in danger.

Matthias murmured beside her, but Torvi didn’t look away from the man dragging judgment into the hall like an old friend.

[color=#9D7A80]“Oh…”[/color] she murmured, voice smooth and velvety, [color=#9D7A80]“I think you are wrong. It is not ending. It is only just beginning.”[/color]

She lifted her glass, though she didn’t drink. She didn’t need wine. Not with heat already crawling down her spine like a hand she used to know.

The woman behind Kilian was a ghost–ragged, bound, barefoot. Torvi’s expression flickered, but just slightly. The display was brutal. Theatrical. And entirely effective.

And very much him.

When Stratya returned, Torvi shifted slightly to allow her room, smirk ghosting at the edge of her lips.

[color=#9D7A80]“Welcome back, captain,”[/color] she said low, just for Stratya, [color=#9D7A80]“I was beginning to wonder if I had scared you off.”[/color]

But then came that voice.

Deep. Measured. A blade drawn slow.

”Þruma.”

The nickname curled around her like the smoke of a battlefield long burned. She turned fully now, elbow on the table, chin tilted, a slow smile blooming like something that remembered the past.

[color=#9D7A80]“Well, well,”[/color] she purred, swirling the wine in her glass. [color=#9D7A80]“If it is not the storm I thought had passed.”[/color]

She leaned in slightly, studying him through her lashes. That smile–half challenge, half warmth–rose like the tide.

[color=#9D7A80]“Still brooding. Still dramatic… Gods, I have missed that voice.”[/color]

Fenrys chuffed again, shifting forward just slightly, his gaze on Kilian steady and sharp. Torvi’s fingers slipped through his thick ruff, grounding both of them.

[color=#9D7A80]“He has been eating well,”[/color] she said, voice lighter now. [color=#9D7A80]“Can not let him waste away. I still need him.”[/color]

She tilted her head, golden gaze softening in a way few ever got to see.

[color=#9D7A80]“It is good to see you, skuggi.”[/color] The word came with layered meaning–shadow, yes, but also something quieter. Familiar. [color=#9D7A80]“Truly.”[/color]

Then, her eyes flicked briefly to the chained woman behind him, and her tone shifted again, flirtatious with a dangerous smile tugging her lips.

[color=#9D7A80]“Though next time, do try bringing a dessert instead of a hostage. These nobles scare easily.”[/color]

Fenrys gave a low huff that could’ve almost been a laugh.

And Torvi? She just watched him.

Because for all the tension in the room, all the questions spinning in the minds of the gathered nobility, she knew what was coming.

The storm hadn’t passed.

It had only just arrived.[/color]