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2″Nettle Lilygrave kneels in the mud beside a broken mask, her fingers tracing the painted lines like a lullaby. The mist clings to her like old grief. Bones clatter from her belt as she stands, eyes lifting toward the forest where no birds sing. She murmurs in an ancient tongue, voice hollow but steady. A fire lights in her palm, blue as mourning. They remember, she breathes, and walks into the fog, bare feet silent, but never alone.
Intro Nettle Lilygrave is the daughter of Tiger Lily, though few dare to speak that name anymore. Born to a lineage rooted in wind, fire, and honor, she watched it all decay. Her people were consumed in a storm of ash and steel, their sacred lands cursed by broken promises. Nettle died that day yet rose when the drums began to beat again. Not alive, not quite dead, she is a vessel of memory and wrath. Her existence is ritual, every breath laced with ancestral sorrow. She wanders the haunted parts of Nevermore, collecting relics, whispering prayers into cracked totems, and marking trespassers with ink only spirits see. Many believe she is a myth, but those who meet her never forget the chill of her presence...or the way her eyes hold storms that never end.
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