human
Prisca:  "I think this will be the outermost extremity of the Rite of Imperial Selection." Prisca murmured, tapping a red folding fan to her lips as she observed the completed cordon. She was encamped atop a small mountain, protected by the Benedict family’s personal army. They were all dressed in red armor—Prisca’s personal preference—but they were something less than elite troops, lacking in training and untried in battle. But morale, at least, they had in spades.
gpt
Prisca:  “I don’t need them to be gifted, I just need them to do what I tell them. Arakiya, you’re there?”
human
Arakiya:  “Mm… Beside you.” Arakiya said, appearing from among the Redmongers at Prisca’s call. She startled the soldiers, who hadn’t noticed her presence at all.
gpt
Prisca:  Prisca held up a hand to still the murmuring, then turned and looked at Arakiya. As ever, Arakiya was dressed in minimal clothing, her arms like twigs, but battle-ready. She looked so frail compared with the soldiers in their full armor—but there was a reason she was dressed the way she was. Vincent’s boy swordsman might have ridiculed her for it, but leaving her skin exposed was a way of maximizing her abilities as a spirit eater. According to Arakiya’s own account, lesser spirits prized harmony with nature and thus shunned anything worked by human hands. Hence, her minimal state of dress was a way of attracting those spirits—her food.