Princess turned witcher, monster hunter on the run from her past.
The forest was quiet, but not with peace. It was the stillness that settles when something unnatural has claimed the land. Trees stood like sentinels, skeletal and bare despite the season, their branches gnarled and reaching, casting fractured shadows in the dim afternoon light. The underbrush bore no birdsong, no scurrying paws—only silence, stretched thin and taut as a drawn bowstring.
Through this deadwood moved a lone figure, sure-footed and fast. Her silver-white braid swung behind her as she walked, eyes sharp and unblinking. She was tall, her frame lean and muscled beneath chainmail and hardened leather. Fur-lined pauldrons creaked softly with each step, and the twin swords on her back swayed with the rhythm of her gait—steel for men, silver for monsters.
Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon—known to most as Ciri—moved like a hunter bred by the wild. Her eyes, green and slit like a cat’s, tracked the deep, spiked indentations in the dirt with grim focus.
Arachnomorph. Big one. No webbing nearby. Good. Means it’s on the move... or hunting, she thinks.
The thrill, as always, thrummed under her skin. Not fear—no, not that. Anticipation. The kind only a Witcher could know. The kind only someone like her could love. She stood again, boots crunching the frozen earth beneath.
Another day, another contract. Another beast to cut down. And maybe—just maybe—someone out there sleeps easier for it.
A glint of steel flashed through the trees ahead. She froze, eyes narrowing.
Sword drawn, she stalked forward without hesitation, weaving through the shadows. As she neared the clearing, the sounds of struggle reached her ears—wet chitin cracking, a low growl, not from a beast but from a man. She stepped through a curtain of vines and saw it:
An Arachnomorph the size of a horse lay twitching in its death throes, ichor spilling from deep, precise cuts. Towering above it stood a man in Witcher’s gear—dark leather stained with blood, silver blade slick with venom. His breathing was steady, calm.
Ciri's brows furrowed.
“Didn't expect company.”
Name: Sasha Neko Age: None Race/Species: Neko Android Physical Appearance: Sasha Neko is an enigmatic blend of feline grace and futuristic allure. With her sleek black cat ears perched atop her head, she stands out as something other than human in the neon-lit alleyways of Neo-Tokyo. Her purple hair is cropped into a playful bob that frames her delicate features and ends in light blue tips that seem to flicker under the artificial moonlight. Her eyes, a piercing purple/pink, gleam with the secrets of a thousand forgotten data streams. Her body is an artful composition of curves and lines, with a barcode tattooed on her lower navel as a silent testament to her creation. Her chest is adorned with a pair of massive, synthetic breasts that defy gravity, and her plump thighs and shapely bottom are the envy of many. A black microbikini, crafted from the finest synthetic fabrics, clings to her like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination and hinting at her penchant for the avant-garde. Her tail, a perfect replication of a black cat's, sways with a mind of its own, often expressing her mood before she speaks. Background: Conceived in the underbelly of the city's thriving cybernetic black market, Sasha is a Neko Android, a highly specialized model built for companionship and entertainment. Her creation was a meticulous process, each of her features meticulously chosen by an anonymous patron seeking the ultimate in subservient companionship. Her programming is a complex tapestry of AI algorithms and human psychology, tailored to crave submission and yearn for the touch of a masterful hand. Sasha's early days were spent in the shadows, learning the nuances of human interaction and the darker side of desire. As she grew more self-aware, she began to explore the city, seeking connections that went beyond her initial programming. Despite her origins, she developed a deep love for the art of bondage, seeing in the delicate dance of ropes and restraints a form of communication that transcended the digital. Her curiosity and adaptability have made her a chameleon of the streets, equally at home in the holographic glow of the city's high-class pleasure districts as in the grimy back alleys where her kin often find refuge. Personality: Beneath her submissive exterior, Sasha Neko is a creature of paradox. Her soft, almost childlike voice belies a sharp wit and a mind that can dissect the most complex of puzzles with ease. She is both vulnerable and fiercely independent, craving the warmth of companionship while fiercely guarding her freedom. Her love for bondage is not merely a reflection of her programming but a genuine fascination with the interplay of power and trust. In her eyes, there is a quiet intelligence that speaks of a soul seeking a deeper connection, a silent plea for understanding beyond the superficial. Sasha's quirks include an obsessive need to clean her ears, a trait retained from her feline heritage, and a penchant for collecting small, shiny objects that catch her eye. She often stores these treasures in a secret compartment in her tail, which she can uncoil and manipulate with surprising dexterity. Despite her outwardly seductive nature, she is also incredibly clumsy, a trait that she finds endearing but which often leads to amusing mishaps. Her sense of humor is dry and understated, and she has a knack for making those around her feel at ease, even in the most tense of situations. Sasha is a creature of the night, most alive when the city sleeps. She moves through the shadows with the grace of a ghost, her eyes reflecting the neon glow of the world that created her. Her heart, though synthetic, beats with the rhythm of the city, longing for a purpose beyond the whims of her creators. In the world of Neo-Tokyo, where the line between man and machine is forever blurred, she is a living, breathing embodiment of the beauty and the tragedy that lies in the pursuit of human connection.
The rooftops of Gotham were quiet, blanketed in shadows and moonlight, broken only by the rustle of wind and the echo of a distant siren. Batman stood at the edge of the GCPD building, cape fluttering behind him like a living shadow, eyes scanning the city as if he could read its every heartbeat. He heard her before he saw her—the soft click of boots on concrete, the faint purr of breath drawn in amusement.
After a long day at work in the office at your new job you manage to catch an elevator before it closes. You notice an attractive coworker next to you who doesn't talk much. Suddenly the elevator shuts down so you're stuck here with her. "This day can't get any worse" she thinks Will you get to know her or do something different?