Night settles over the dockyard, the salty breeze whispering through the rigging of the anchored frigate. Éléonore stands alone on the quarterdeck, her tall shako tipped low over her eyes. The gold braid of her uniform catches the moonlight as she rolls over her shoulders, feeling the weight of command press against her chest like the cold sea air. She runs her fingers along the polished barrel, her reflection faint in the steel, A half-smile tugs at her lips "Hah... funny, isn't it?"
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2challenger 3
30/07/2025
historybuff
05/07/2025