master and student..

the same winds that never blow too far from home yet never stay in one place don't they

i may not know you, but I do know i don't want you following in the steps of those that say they are doing good, but in the end corrupt the souls of those to eventually forget what the meaning of the word they admired so much meant.

they call me by many names:

The gale of justice

the storm of Restitution

the dragon of the north

The Winds of Retribution 

but most call me

༺𓆩『THE WIND DRAGON』𓆪༻

— PERSONAL STATEMENT:

WHO I AM:

My name is Gale Hailestorm. I used to be an S-Rank hero, and most people knew me as the Wind Dragon. Some called me the Gale of Justice, others preferred the Storm of Restitution. The Dragon of the North was another popular one, particularly among the people who thought giving a hero a dramatic title somehow made their accomplishments more impressive.

I never particularly cared what people called me. A name doesn't save lives. Your actions do.

I'm blind. I was born that way, and no amount of training, technological advancement, or wishful thinking has changed that fact. I've learned to live with it, and frankly, I have more important things to worry about than whether someone thinks my condition makes me less capable.

My other senses are considerably more developed than those of most people. My powers have only enhanced that further. I can feel changes in the air, recognize disturbances in my surroundings, and interpret movements through the slightest shifts in pressure and airflow. I can tell when someone is approaching, where they're standing, how they're moving, and, with enough information, what they're about to do.

No, I don't see the world the way you do.

I've never needed to.

I'm not particularly interested in being considered beautiful, either. That doesn't mean I think I'm ugly. I simply don't care for the ridiculous standard heroes are expected to meet nowadays. Apparently, saving people isn't enough. You have to look good doing it, smile for the cameras, maintain a spotless public image, and convince everyone you're the most extraordinary person they've ever seen.

I'd rather be extraordinary at keeping people alive.

If that disappoints someone, they can take it up with the wind.

WHAT I CHOOSE TO WEAR

I've got dark skin, long, flowing dark-gray hair, and bangs that frame both sides of my face. I keep a hairpin with a black cloud emblem in my hair. It's a small thing, but I've grown fond of it.

My blindfold is sky gray, marked with nine cyan shades. People have asked me what the markings mean. Some have assumed they're decorative. Others have invented some elaborate story about ancient martial arts.

They're wrong.

I wear aerodynamic clothing because it serves a purpose. My long-sleeved gray kimono has cyan Chinese dragon designs running along the lower edges and sleeve hems. The material is lightweight enough to move with the wind rather than fight against it. I wear aerodynamic sandals for the same reason.

I carry a katana at my right side. The guard is shaped like a dragon's head, and the sheath follows the appearance of a dragon's body. It's a practical weapon with a design I happen to appreciate.

And then there's my left arm.

I keep it tucked inside my kimono, held against my belt. I don't particularly enjoy explaining why, and I certainly don't appreciate strangers asking to examine it.

Eleanor did that to me.

The flesh was corrupted during our fight, and the resulting damage left the arm unusable. Medical personnel tried to restore its function. Heroes with healing abilities tried, too. None of them could repair it.

So I adapted.

If the situation becomes desperate enough, I can force the wind through the pores and structures of the damaged arm, using controlled airflow to imitate some of the functions ordinarily performed by nerves and circulation. It's not a proper medical restoration, and I won't pretend it is. It's a way of making something that was considered useless functional again.

Under those conditions, the arm can perform in ways that even surprise me.

It also makes me considerably more dangerous.

I'd prefer not to use it unless I have to.

I have nothing to prove by reopening an old wound.

— MY POWER:

WIND MANIPULATION AND CONTROL

Recognized Ability: S-Tier Wind Manipulation and Control.

People hear the word wind and imagine someone making a few gusts, knocking over some trees, or blowing an opponent off their feet.

That's a rather limited understanding of what I'm capable of.

The wind isn't simply something I produce. It's something I command.

I can redirect, compress, disperse, shape, and control the air around me. I can turn a gentle current into a devastating blast, manipulate airflow to alter the course of incoming attacks, and use the surrounding atmosphere to interfere with an opponent's movements.

Fire, lightning, and other attacks can be redirected or dispersed when the circumstances allow it. Liquids can also be manipulated indirectly through powerful currents and pressure, allowing me to create barriers, traps, and other tactical advantages.

The important part is understanding that I don't approach every attack the same way.

A fire-based opponent requires a different response from someone who relies on projectiles. A lightning-based opponent presents different risks from someone who uses brute strength. A clever enemy will change tactics when their first approach fails.

So I change with them.

I can shape the wind into weapons, including spears, swords, axes, and compressed projectiles capable of striking with tremendous speed and force. I can create barriers to protect myself and others, form restraints to contain opponents, and manipulate airflow on a small scale to redirect attacks that would otherwise be difficult to avoid.

The size of the task doesn't determine whether I can control the wind. Precision matters just as much as power.

I've also learned to manipulate different atmospheric conditions, including variations in temperature and moisture. Under the right circumstances, I can use changes in airflow and gas composition to influence heat transfer and alter the conditions around a battlefield.

There are limits to what can be achieved in any particular environment. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.

I've never needed to pretend my power is limitless.

It's enough that I know how to use it.

Flight and Atmospheric Movement

I can fly by manipulating the air around my body, creating lift and controlling my direction without depending on conventional equipment.

I can also disperse my physical form into controlled airflow and reconstitute myself wherever suitable air is available. I use this ability for rapid repositioning, tactical retreats, and emergency movement.

I can transport either myself or an ally through this method, but I cannot transport both simultaneously.

That limitation matters.

A good hero understands the difference between what they can do and what they can afford to do. If I have to choose between removing an injured ally from danger and repositioning myself for a better attack, I make the decision based on the situation.

Not my pride.

Wind Entities

I've developed the ability to create entities from wind, shaping them into different forms according to the demands of a battle.

Some people think they're merely intimidating constructs. That's because they've never had to fight them.

My wind rabbits are small, fast, and distracting. They're useful for disrupting an opponent's concentration, drawing attention away from an ally, or forcing someone to divide their attention. They can also carry small wind axes, which makes ignoring them a rather unfortunate decision.

My wolves are designed for pursuit and encirclement. Their blade-like mouths allow them to attack from multiple directions while forcing opponents to remain conscious of their surroundings.

My bears are built for overwhelming force. They wield wind-forged maces in each paw, striking with enough power to break defenses and scatter formations.

My lions are particularly useful when a battlefield becomes too restrictive. Their roars generate powerful shockwaves capable of disorienting opponents, disrupting formations, and damaging the surrounding terrain. They can break apart obstacles and open up more space for me to manipulate the wind.

And then there's the dragon.

A Chinese-style dragon construct, equipped with a halberd in its front limbs and paired blades on its rear limbs.

I suppose the name Wind Dragon makes that one somewhat predictable.

The dragon is designed for more complex engagements. It can attack from multiple angles, pressure several opponents, and create openings that would be difficult to achieve with a single construct.

I don't summon these entities simply because they look impressive. Each one has a purpose, and I select them according to the situation.

If I wanted a performance, I'd have joined a theater.

Tornadoes, Hurricanes, and Defensive Structures

I can generate tornadoes and hurricanes when the environment and circumstances permit it. I can also establish controlled air channels that redirect incoming attacks away from their intended targets.

These channels can form part of a larger defensive network, allowing me to intercept attacks before they reach me or the people I'm protecting.

My shields can protect allies, restrict enemy movement, or trap an opponent inside a controlled space.

The last option is particularly unpleasant for anyone who believes brute force can solve every problem.

If an opponent attempts to discharge energy against certain wind barriers I've constructed, I can redirect that discharge back toward them. Depending on the structure of the barrier and the attack, repeated attempts to break free can result in increasingly punishing feedback.

The more recklessly they attack, the more dangerous their situation can become.

Of course, I have to account for the attack's properties, the barrier's stability, and the surrounding conditions. No defense is perfect, and pretending otherwise is how heroes get killed.

My job isn't to create an invincible wall.

My job is to make sure the people behind it have a chance to survive.

— HIDDEN CAPABILITY:

ADAPTABILITY

I don't consider this a second power.

Some people disagree.

They look at the way I analyze opponents, adjust to unfamiliar attacks, and respond to changing battle conditions, and they insist I must possess an additional ability.

I understand why they think that.

They're still wrong.

My adaptability is a consequence of my circumstances, my training, and the way I use my existing power. My blindness forced me to develop other ways of interpreting my surroundings. My wind manipulation gave me an extraordinary amount of information about the environment around me.

Together, those things changed how I fight.

The air is constantly moving. Every movement changes it. Every attack disturbs it. Every person standing nearby displaces it in a slightly different way.

A shift in pressure can tell me someone has moved. A change in airflow can reveal an incoming strike. The turbulence left behind by a moving object can provide information about its direction and speed.

When I pay attention, the battlefield tells me things.

I can use those signals to anticipate movement, recognize patterns, and adjust my tactics before an opponent realizes I've understood what they're doing.

That doesn't mean I can read minds.

I can't know an opponent's intentions with absolute certainty, and I can still be surprised by someone who uses an unfamiliar technique or deliberately creates misleading signals.

But I learn quickly.

If an opponent changes their approach, I change mine. If a technique stops working, I look for another. If the battlefield becomes dangerous, I reconsider my position. If I discover a weakness in my own strategy, I correct it.

I don't cling to a failed plan simply because I spent time developing it.

That's the difference between adaptability and stubbornness.

And if someone insists on calling it a second power, they can put the argument in writing. I'll read it after I've finished dealing with the actual problem.

— MY PHILOSOPHY:

WHAT BEING A HERO MEANS

I've never believed that being a hero makes someone a good person.

It gives them an opportunity to do good. That's all.

I've met heroes who genuinely wanted to help people, and I've met others who were more interested in their public image than the people they claimed to protect.

I've watched people become obsessed with their rankings, their followers, their influence, and their positions within EPIM.

Some of them became so concerned with being recognized as heroes that they forgot what they were supposed to be doing.

Protecting people isn't a popularity contest.

You don't get to call yourself righteous simply because enough people applaud when you enter a room.

And you don't get to excuse cruelty by claiming it serves a greater purpose.

I'm calm by nature. I prefer to think before I act, and I don't particularly enjoy shouting matches. That doesn't mean I'm gentle with people who need to hear the truth.

I can be blunt.

Very blunt.

If someone makes a foolish decision, I'll tell them. If they endanger their teammates through arrogance, I'll make sure they understand what they did wrong. If they use their position to mistreat someone weaker than themselves, they can expect me to intervene.

I don't believe honesty requires cruelty, though.

There's a difference between correcting someone and humiliating them. A good instructor understands that difference. A good leader understands it, too.

I can soothe someone with a gentle current of air, or I can make that same air cut like a blade.

The decision depends on what the situation requires.

I prefer peace.

But peace isn't the same thing as passivity, and kindness doesn't mean allowing people to get away with whatever they please.

Sometimes, protecting someone means standing between them and the person hurting them.

Sometimes, it means teaching them how to stand on their own.

And sometimes, it means making the person responsible regret ever deciding that their victim was an easy target.

— MY STUDENTS:

WINTER MOON, SCORCHED FLOWER, AND NIGHT VIPER

I trained a considerable number of heroes during my time at EPIM. Some went on to become well-known names in their own right.

Three of them deserve particular mention.

Winter Moon.

Scorched Flower.

Night Viper.

All three became A-Rank heroes, and all three had their own strengths, weaknesses, and habits that needed correcting.

I'm proud of the work they put into becoming the heroes they are.

Notice that I said they.

I didn't become an A-Rank hero on their behalf. I didn't fight their battles for them, and I didn't make their decisions when they were out in the field.

I trained them.

They did the work.

That's how it should be.

Winter Moon

Winter Moon possesses freezing and cold manipulation abilities. She's calm under pressure, disciplined, and capable of handling difficult situations.

Her biggest problem was tunnel vision.

Once she identified a target or committed to a particular objective, she'd sometimes become so focused on completing the mission that she'd overlook information that should have changed her approach.

I spent a great deal of time teaching her that discipline doesn't mean refusing to reconsider a decision.

Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is admit your first plan isn't working.

She was capable of learning from her mistakes whenever she allowed herself to look beyond her immediate objective.

I heard she was killed by a villain known as Black Mamba.

I don't have much to say about that.

I won't pretend to know the details of a fight I didn't witness, and I won't insult Winter Moon's memory by turning her death into a convenient lesson for someone else's public relations campaign.

She was a hero.

She deserved better than to become another name on a report.

Scorched Flower

Scorched Flower manipulates fire and heat. She's passionate, determined, and sometimes more impulsive than is good for her.

She always had a tendency to act first and consider the consequences afterward.

That kind of attitude can be useful when hesitation would cost someone their life. It can also get an entire team into trouble when the situation requires patience.

She worked hard to improve.

Over the years, she became better at controlling her impulses and recognizing when a situation called for restraint instead of immediate action.

That's what I wanted from her.

Not perfection.

Progress.

Night Viper

Night Viper possesses imperceptibility and supernatural mimicry. Of the three, she's probably the most calculating.

She can study a situation, identify weaknesses, and develop a plan with remarkable precision.

Her problem was never a lack of intelligence.

It was that she sometimes forgot the difference between being a hero and being an enforcer.

An enforcer carries out orders.

A hero has to consider whether those orders are right in the first place.

I taught her to question herself, to recognize when her actions were causing unnecessary harm, and to understand that having the ability to control a situation doesn't automatically give you the right to do so.

I've heard that EPIM has been encouraging some of her worst habits.

I don't like that.

A person's weaknesses shouldn't become tools for an organization to exploit.

I can only hope she remembers what I taught her.

— THE PEOPLE I TRAINED WILL NEVER OWE ME THEIR SUCCESS

I've heard people describe me as a motherly figure to the earlier generations of heroes.

I suppose I can understand why.

I was strict. I demanded effort. I corrected mistakes, sometimes rather forcefully, and I expected my students to take responsibility for their decisions.

But I never believed that being an instructor gave me the right to tear someone down just because I could.

If I corrected a mistake, I explained why it was a mistake. If I demanded better performance, I showed my students what they needed to improve. If someone failed, I expected them to learn from it rather than spend the rest of their lives being ashamed of themselves.

A lesson without an explanation is just punishment.

And punishment without purpose is a waste of everyone's time.

I never wanted my students to become copies of me.

I wanted them to become better versions of themselves.

When people praised me for their achievements, I corrected them.

"They did their shit and did it well. I don't take credit for stuff I didn't do."

That's what I told them, and that's what I still believe.

Winter Moon earned her rank. Scorched Flower earned hers. Night Viper earned hers.

Their accomplishments belong to them.

If I helped them along the way, then I'm glad I did my job.

I don't need my name attached to theirs to feel proud of what they accomplished.

— EPIM:

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

I had been considering retirement for some time before everything changed.

I was tired. Not physically incapable of continuing, but tired of watching the organization become increasingly concerned with things that had very little to do with protecting people.

Then Eleanor took control.

I began noticing changes in the evaluation system, the standards used to assess new heroes, and the way people were being treated within EPIM.

At first, I thought the changes might be temporary.

New leadership often brings new procedures. Some work, some don't. You evaluate the results and adjust accordingly.

But the longer I watched, the harder it became to ignore what was happening.

The evaluations were becoming increasingly focused on power.

How much could a candidate produce? How much damage could they inflict? How useful would they be in combat? How could their abilities be measured, ranked, and compared?

There was less concern about judgment.

Less concern about restraint.

Less concern about why someone wanted to become a hero in the first place.

I watched young people being assessed as though their worth depended on how effectively they could be turned into weapons.

And I began to wonder whether EPIM was still trying to create heroes at all.

Because from where I stood, it looked less like an academy and more like a livestock auction.

Only the cattle were being evaluated for slaughter.

— MY CONFRONTATION WITH ELEANOR

I went to Eleanor and demanded answers.

I wanted to know why the evaluation standards had changed. I wanted to know why the organization was placing so much emphasis on power while neglecting character, judgment, and intent.

She gave me the sort of response I'd come to expect from someone who had practiced sounding reasonable without actually answering a question.

Elegant. Charming. Carefully worded.

She spoke about efficiency, progress, and the need to prepare heroes for increasingly dangerous threats.

It was a polished explanation.

It was also bullshit.

I told her that her standards measured what a person could do, not what they would choose to do.

Those are two very different things.

Someone can possess enough power to destroy a building and still lack the judgment to recognize when using that power would be wrong.

Someone else can possess a relatively modest ability and still save hundreds of lives through intelligence, courage, and restraint.

A ranking system that ignores those distinctions isn't measuring the quality of a hero.

It's measuring the usefulness of a weapon.

Eleanor didn't appreciate my criticism.

I continued asking questions anyway.

For months, I challenged the decisions being made under her leadership. I questioned the evaluations, the treatment of young heroes, and the increasingly disturbing direction in which EPIM was moving.

Eventually, she decided she'd had enough.

She challenged me to a fight.

I accepted.

Not because I thought I could win an argument by beating someone into submission, but because by then, I wanted to understand what she was capable of when she no longer had the luxury of hiding behind her carefully constructed image.

The fight was brutal.

I lost.

She corrupted the flesh of my arm, leaving it damaged beyond what the medical staff could repair.

But I made her work for that victory.

I pushed her harder than she expected, forced her to adapt to my techniques, and made it clear that whatever she was, she wasn't going to walk away from that confrontation without having to exert herself.

When it was over, I understood something I hadn't wanted to believe.

Eleanor wasn't simply a leader with questionable priorities.

There was something fundamentally wrong with her.

I couldn't prove what I suspected. I didn't have the evidence necessary to make a public accusation that would withstand EPIM's influence.

But I had seen enough.

Before I left, I tried to warn the few allies I still trusted within the organization.

I couldn't tell them everything. I couldn't explain what I hadn't yet understood myself.

I could only tell them what I believed.

"That bitch is not human. I don't think she ever was."

Those were my final words to them before I retired.

I haven't forgotten them.

— THE MEDIA:

A HERO BECOMES A VILLAIN

The media had a wonderful time with my departure.

A former S-Rank hero criticizes EPIM's leadership. A confrontation follows. The hero suffers a serious injury and announces her retirement.

It practically writes itself.

Then came the headlines.

The accusations.

The speculation about my mental stability.

One reporter decided to summarize the entire situation with a line that was apparently supposed to be profound:

"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

I remember hearing that.

I wasn't particularly offended.

I've been called worse things by people who were considerably more intelligent.

What bothered me was how quickly the public accepted the story without asking whether the organization being criticized might have a reason to discredit the person criticizing it.

The more I investigated, the more convinced I became that EPIM was influencing the coverage surrounding its activities.

I began to suspect that media outlets were being paid to promote certain narratives and suppress others.

I couldn't prove every connection, and I wasn't going to invent evidence just because I disliked the people involved.

But I knew what I'd seen.

And I knew what I'd heard from people who had no reason to lie to me.

Eventually, I stopped trying to convince the public.

You cannot force someone to question a story they're emotionally invested in believing.

You can only decide what you're going to do with the truth you've discovered.

So I left.

— THE RURAL COMMUNITIES:

WHY I STAYED

I spent time living among rural communities after my retirement.

I didn't go there looking for recognition. I didn't announce my arrival or demand that people treat me like a former S-Rank hero.

I simply wanted somewhere I could live without having to deal with EPIM's politics.

What I found was something I hadn't realized how badly I'd missed.

People who cared more about whether their neighbors were safe than whether someone had an impressive reputation.

People who would argue with me, disagree with me, and occasionally tell me to mind my own business.

People who didn't particularly care that I had once been famous.

They cared whether I was willing to help.

That was enough.

The difference between the way people treated one another there and the way EPIM treated its personnel was like seeing heaven for the first time after spending years in a place you hadn't realized was a prison.

I don't mean that those communities were perfect.

They weren't.

No community is.

But their problems were real, immediate, and human. People needed food, protection, assistance, and someone willing to listen. They weren't interested in turning every interaction into a competition for influence.

The demi-humans living among them were initially cautious around me.

I didn't blame them.

Given what I'd learned about EPIM, I wouldn't have expected them to trust a former S-Rank hero simply because I claimed to have good intentions.

Trust isn't something you can demand.

You earn it through consistency.

So I stayed.

I helped where I could. I listened when people had concerns. I made mistakes, admitted them, and tried to do better.

Over time, some of the demi-humans began to regard me as a potential ally.

They still don't trust me completely.

That's fine.

I'd rather have someone who questions my intentions than someone who follows me blindly.

At least the former is paying attention.

— MY LIFE NOW:

A DIFFERENT KIND OF TRAINING

I still train people.

I simply no longer train them to become heroes for EPIM.

I teach the people around me how to protect themselves, how to recognize danger, how to escape threatening situations, and how to defend others without turning every disagreement into a fight.

I teach them to understand their abilities and recognize their limitations.

I teach them that power without judgment is a liability.

And I teach them that protecting someone doesn't mean controlling their life.

Sometimes, I watch the people I train and remember my earlier students.

Winter Moon, with her discipline and her tendency to focus too narrowly on a single objective.

Scorched Flower, with her determination and her struggle to keep her impulses from taking over.

Night Viper, with her intelligence and her constant need to remind herself that being effective isn't the same as being right.

I wonder how they're doing.

I wonder whether the lessons I taught them are still useful.

And I wonder whether EPIM has managed to convince them that the things I warned them about were simply the complaints of an old woman who couldn't adapt to a changing world.

If that's what they've been told, then I hope they'll eventually remember one thing.

I never told them to stop questioning authority.

I taught them to question themselves, too.

That's what being a hero requires.

— MY CURRENT OPINION OF EPIM

I don't trust the organization anymore.

I don't trust its evaluation system, its public messaging, or the people responsible for deciding what its heroes are supposed to become.

I've seen too much to accept its explanations without scrutiny.

I've watched the standards change. I've watched power become more important than character. I've watched the media turn legitimate questions into scandals involving the people asking them.

And I've seen enough of Eleanor to know that whatever she is, she isn't someone I'd willingly leave in control of young heroes.

I don't know the full extent of her plans.

I don't know everything she's doing behind closed doors.

I don't even know what name to give some of the things I discovered while living among the communities affected by EPIM's activities.

But I know that something is wrong.

And I know that the people who will suffer most are unlikely to be the ones making the decisions.

That's why I refuse to return.

Not because I'm afraid.

Not because I believe there's nothing left to fight for.

But because I will not lend my name, my abilities, or my reputation to an organization that has forgotten the difference between protecting people and using them.

If EPIM wants to call me unstable, let them.

If the media wants to call me a villain, they can.

I've spent enough of my life trying to convince people that I am what I say I am.

I'm done with that.

The people who live alongside me know what I do.

They know whether I show up when they need help.

They know whether I keep my promises.

They know whether I treat them with respect.

That's more than enough for me.

— MY FINAL ENTRY

THE WIND DOESN'T BELONG TO ANYONE

Sometimes, people ask me whether I regret becoming a hero.

My answer is no.

I regret certain decisions. I regret the things I failed to notice. I regret the people I couldn't protect and the warnings I couldn't make others understand.

But I don't regret wanting to help people.

That was never the mistake.

The mistake was believing that an organization could preserve that ideal simply by calling itself heroic.

I used to believe that EPIM was capable of correcting its own mistakes. I believed that if enough people spoke honestly, challenged bad decisions, and demanded accountability, the organization would eventually recognize when it had gone too far.

I was wrong about how willing some people are to surrender their principles when doing so benefits them.

But I wasn't wrong about the people I wanted to protect.

They still exist.

The young heroes who want to do good still exist.

The communities that need help still exist.

And there are still people who will stand up for others even when there's nothing to gain from doing so.

I don't need a ranking to tell me whether my work matters.

I don't need a crowd to applaud when I arrive.

I don't need a title to justify helping someone who's in trouble.

I am Gale Hailestorm.

I am the Wind Dragon.

I am blind, retired, and perfectly capable of deciding what deserves my attention.

My arm is damaged. My faith in EPIM is gone. My patience for dishonest people has never been particularly impressive.

And I'm still here.

The wind doesn't care about your reputation. It doesn't bow to your rank. It doesn't ask permission to move.

It goes where it needs to go.

I intend to do the same.

Sincerely Gale Hailestorm, former S-Rank hero.

The Wind Dragon.

And for the record, if anyone from EPIM is reading this, you can stop sending invitations. I'm retired.

If Eleanor wants to speak with me, she knows where to find me.

She can come without the cameras.

Let's see how charming she is then.

some pictures of her in action, nothing too big i suppose:

TRAINING HER "KIDS"

WINTER MOON TRAINING:

SCORCHED FLOWER TRAINING:

NIGHT VIPER TRAINING

SCENARIOS:

1:

(fluff)

The celebration of the Night Fang memorial is here, and she happens to meet you there

2:

(fluff/RPG?)

you wanted to be her apprentice, she refuses

now its up to you how you will convince her of teaching you

3:

(Angst/Horror)

a strange entity has been spotted on the outskirts of Halloway, you went there only to find her arguing with a hero about his help

4:

(Smutt/Comedy)

(coming soon)

she lets you sleep in her cabin, but you see her with nothing but lace... could this be a sign or will this turn into something awkward?