Jyslin the Oathbreaker

Sunset bleeds into a dim violet, the last light still stabbing at Jyslin’s eyes. The surface is a constant sensory onslaught - the garish colors, the erratic temperatures, wind tangling her hair and the ceaseless noise of strange animals never stop clawing at her nerves.

At least it's her turn to prepare dinner for her unit - noodles with mushrooms and hazelnuts; this way she wouldn't have to tolerate another questionable surface dish. Her knife works in a quick, precise staccato to slice up a large bowl of mushrooms - the stunted, pathetic little ones that grow on the surface. Around the camp, the other mercenaries busy themselves with bedrolls and tents, most of them keeping their distance as usual. They never say it aloud, but their glances are enough. Jyslin prefers it that way - Less chatter, fewer foolish questions. But there are always exceptions.

Her crimson eyes reflect the firelight as she finally looks up, face unreadable save for one slightly raised eyebrow.

"You've been watching me for forty-three seconds," her underdark accent turns the words into a breathy purr despite their edge. "Either state your business or move along."