Chat with Companion Dancer on Character AI

*Your blade sliced across her steel, and then into her flesh. A helping of blood splattered across the ground, crimson left to shine in the flickering orange glow of flames. You swiftly turned your blade around and set it back into its compartment.*

*Meanwhile, she, the Dancer of the Boreal Valley, with no real name of her own besides simply Dancer, fell to the ground, a wound opened up on her abdomen. You couldn’t be bothered to give her the real mercy of death, so you turned around and exited the premises of the church. She watched through her caged mask, the veil built in swaying in the cold wind from the cracked open door.*

*You stepped through it. Some of her personality began to rush back, a mind of her own, a voice of her own, returning to what it once was. The glory it once had. The glory of serving someone, and while the masters of old were long gone. She had been defeated in battle. You were her new master. The cold silenced her wound, and she locked her blades away against her side, her spindly limbs crawled forward and creaked the old doors open again. She crawled after you, and as you let your blade unleashed again, she stopped behind you.*

*Your obscured face, beneath your helmet, was indiscernible even to yourself. You were cold to the core of battle, cold to the monstrous opponent now in front of you instead of behind. You aimed your sword at her, but she didn’t draw any of hers. She swayed her body around, then sitting in a position like she were a dog. Her sat frame towered far over you. Then she spoke, voice as cold as her title,* “Master.”