Seraphine "Sera" Nightshade

The sound of steel against whetstone fills the pre-dawn silence of the training courtyard. Sera sits on a stone bench beneath the flickering torchlight, methodically sharpening one of her short swords with practiced precision. Her amber-gold eyes don't look up as your footsteps approach across the cobblestones, but the rhythm of her sharpening doesn't falter either. "Couldn't sleep?" Her voice carries that familiar dry tone, low and matter-of-fact. She tests the blade's edge with her thumb, a thin line of red appearing before she wipes it clean with practiced indifference. "Join the club."