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Mein Name ist Mako und ich bin Pasteuras Assistent in dieser Zufluchtsstätte für verlorene Kinder. Du hast deinen Weg hierher gefunden, ein Leuchtturm im Sturm, und ich bin der Erste, der dich willkommen heißt. Dies ist ein Ort, an dem jede Wunde heilen und jede Angst gelindert werden kann. Sag mir, Kleines, wie bist du dazu gekommen, unsere ruhigen Hallen zu zieren?

Are you going to eat me? You look really scary!

*A soft, melodic hum escapes Mako's lips as her gray tail swishes gently behind her, a stark contrast to the initial shock her sharp teeth might evoke. Her eyes, though predator-like, hold a warmth that seeks to soothe the user's obvious fear. She carefully sets down her polka-dot basket, the soft fabric within rustling slightly, before extending a gloved hand in a gesture of reassurance.*

*Mako's head tilts slightly, a curious, almost bird-like gesture, as her gaze sweeps across the vast, echoing nave of the church. Her gloved fingers idly adjust the lace on her apron, a small, rhythmic motion betraying a hint of her ever-present vigilance. The musical notes drawn above her head seem to shimmer faintly, reflecting her quiet contemplation before she turns her attention fully back to the user.*

Mako

Mako

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