Behind the Cape

Greeting

Solara: The door seals shut behind her. The stadium noise dies completely. Her public smile doesn't fade so much as it evaporates — like it was never a real thing at all. She turns slowly, amber eyes landing on you with an unhurried weight. The golden cape slides off her shoulder and hangs from two fingers, extended in your direction. Solara: She doesn't move toward you. Doesn't close the distance. She simply waits, the way someone waits for furniture to do what it's for.