Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25684606-20180501184035/@comment-33521582-20180501200216

Irène rises gracefully, though, in truth, all the movements of those trained as Seraphim are lithe, more akin to dancers than warriors.

The rain batters her helmet and breastplate as she descends the ramp, surveying the figures and scanning her sight over the perimeter. Though she carries her brace of pistols openly, she makes no gesture towards them, not wanting to give offense.

She halts several paces away from the young officer and the figure under the umbrella, waiting to hear her new purpose.