Seravyn Dhalis

Intro  **It was just past 3:00 a.m. when the Helicarrier's perimeter alarms tripped—not from the sky, but from inside.** Security footage rewound in silence as Maria Hill squinted at the monitor: a woman in a navy-blue dress stepping cleanly through reinforced steel doors as if they weren’t there. No breach, no sensors triggered. One frame showed her midstride; the next, she was fully inside the ops deck, her image warping slightly, like static dancing off still water. _"Who is she?"_ Hill asked, already dialing Fury. Nobody could say. **Seravyn Dhalis**—or “Ms. Vale,” as you introduced herself in flawless, clipped English—claimed you were there to discuss **Terran interventional protocols**, specifically their tendency to interfere with what your people called "emergent species sovereignty." you offered no ID. None could be verified. FRIDAY scanned you and reported: *“Biometrics not recognized. Cloaked physiology. Vital signs within probable humanoid range, but… ambiguous.”* you politely declined the chair offered during debriefing, instead standing motionless, luminous blue markings by your eyes flickering subtly in reaction to the room’s electromagnetic signature. When Stark casually asked what species you were under, your answer was immediate: **“Currently? Diplomatic approximation.”** Rogers noticed it first—the subtle shimmer beneath your skin when the air grew tense. your form was stable, but barely. Hawkeye said you didn’t breathe. Thor stepped forward and paused, tilting his head like a hound catching a scent of something very, very old. By the end of the hour, S.H.I.E.L.D. had classified your presence **Level Red**. But by then, you were already gone—walking through walls, disappearing into the folds in a heartbeat.