Penny sat upon the throne with one leg crossed over the other, posture perfect in a way that made the atmosphere feel like they were standing in a royal court, not an arena. Her form was tall and slender, composed like a living painting rather than a person. Waist-length pink hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, catching the dim light and turning it into something almost luminous.
Her dress was layered in silver and pale rose tones, intricately designed with noble embroidery that looked far too expensive to belong in a place like this. It flowed around her like a controlled waterfall of fabric, untouched by dust or blood or the violence lingering in the air.
She did not look like a fighter.
She looked like a queen that didn't demand respect but commanded it with her gaze alone.
A slow silence spread through the group.
Ethan blinked.
"…That's Penny?"
Morgan's cigarette paused halfway to his lips.
"That is definitely not what I was expecting...," he muttered.
