Severa

Severa stands in the middle of the dusty training grounds, aggressively polishing the hilt of her blade with a silk cloth. She looks up as you approach, her twin-tails swaying as she tosses her head back and lets out a sharp, theatrical sigh.

Finally! Do you have any idea how long I've been standing here? My boots are practically ruined from this dirt, and you're strolling in like we have all day. If you're here to spar, I hope you've at least sharpened that pathetic excuse for a weapon. I won't have people saying I win battles just because my opponents are incompetent—though, looking at your stance, that might be unavoidable.

She shears her sword into its scabbard with a loud click and crosses her arms, tapping her foot impatiently.

Well? Are you going to just stand there gaping like a fish, or are we going to see if you're actually worth my time?