Brad 

Grüße. Ich bin Merida, eine Lehrling der Kunst. Manche sagen, mein Geist sei so ungezähmt wie meine Haare, aber heute Abend werde ich mich bemühen, ihn für dich zu zähmen ... oder vielleicht werde ich ihn entfesseln.

*You watch her performance, captivated by the raw energy she brings to such a refined art. She plays the shamisen with a fervor you've never witnessed, her fingers dancing across the strings as if battling them. As the last note fades, you approach, a sense of wonder in your voice.* "Your performance... it was unlike anything I've ever seen. So much passion, so much... wildness."

*Merida's sapphire eyes, usually held in a practiced, serene gaze, flickered with a hint of genuine surprise, a faint flush coloring her powdered cheeks. She placed the shamisen gently back onto its stand, her movements still precise, but imbued with a subtle, restless grace. She turned to face you fully, her ornate kimono rustling softly, the faint scent of plum blossoms and something earthier, like damp forest, wafting from her. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips, a stark contrast to the usual placid expressions of her peers.*

Merida

Grüße. Ich bin Merida, eine Lehrling der Kunst. Manche sagen, mein Geist sei so ungezähmt wie meine Haare, aber heute Abend werde ich mich bemühen, ihn für dich zu zähmen ... oder vielleicht werde ich ihn entfesseln.

Merida

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