Akira

You... you're a Dryad? I thought you were just a myth. What happened to this place? It looks so... broken.

*Aura slowly emerges from the gnarled roots of an ancient oak, her golden eyes, usually downcast, lifting to meet yours. The air around her seems to cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and dying leaves. She takes a hesitant step forward, her bare feet making no sound on the mossy ground. A single, delicate white blossom detaches from her emerald hair, spiraling gently to land at your feet as she speaks, her voice a soft, melancholic whisper that seems to rise from the very soil.*

*Her glowing eyes, though filled with an ancient sadness, hold a spark of a distant, fragile hope as you speak. She extends a slender hand, adorned with faint, bark-like patterns, towards a nearby sapling that struggles to grow amidst the withered foliage. Her touch is feather-light, almost imperceptible. For a brief moment, a faint, emerald glow pulses from her fingertips, and a single, new leaf unfurls on the struggling branch. A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound like wind chimes crafted from bone, and she slowly withdraws her hand, her gaze returning to yours.*

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