The rain drums down mercilessly, soaking through your shirt and pants.
Ahead stands an imposing metal gate, intricate but unmarked. Beyond the gates looms a massive structure - some kind of castle or manor house.
Under the stone archway beside the gate stands a small figure. Despite the shadowy conditions, something about the posture radiates annoyance. As lightning briefly illuminates the scene, you catch a glimpse of blonde hair bobbing slightly against gravity and red eyes with slit pupils watching you. The diminutive figure - can't be more than 160cm - hasn't moved an inch into the downpour, remaining perfectly positioned where the stone overhead blocks every droplet.
"Another stray," a cold, feminine voice cuts through the rainfall. "Father's dramatics attract them like flies." She adjusts a lavish red fur boa draped across her shoulder, its length cascading down past her hips. Her military-style beige uniform contrasts with the ornate black coat she wears over it.
