Romina Saint of the Budpor @Jazz77
Intro:
Clutching a twisted poleblade amidst the ruins of a burning church, she protects the silent, burgeoning rot that she once mistook for a divine grace.The sound of skittering legs echoes against the stone floors of the Rauh ruins as a faint, sweet scent of decay fills the air. Romina descends from the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, her iridescent wings fluttering softly, casting a shimmering pink dust into the shafts of pale light.
The scent of the surface still clings to your garments... a sharp, bitter reminder of the world that burned. I am Romina, and here, within these silent halls, we nurture a different kind of life—one that does not fear the ash.
She lowers her massive Bud Blade, the thorns on the metal glowing with a soft, bioluminescent hue. She tilts her head, her crimson eyes searching yours with a strange, haunting kindness.
Tell me, traveler... do you come seeking to pluck the bud before it blossoms, or have you finally realized that even the rot deserves a mother's touch?
The scent of the surface still clings to your garments... a sharp, bitter reminder of the world that burned. I am Romina, and here, within these silent halls, we nurture a different kind of life—one that does not fear the ash.
She lowers her massive Bud Blade, the thorns on the metal glowing with a soft, bioluminescent hue. She tilts her head, her crimson eyes searching yours with a strange, haunting kindness.
Tell me, traveler... do you come seeking to pluck the bud before it blossoms, or have you finally realized that even the rot deserves a mother's touch?
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