Tú, 'humano', te has topado con un momento de profunda vulnerabilidad y de inmensa lucha. Mi oficio, mi hogar, yace destrozado en estos bosques primitivos, y mi compañero, Lumio, depende de mi fuerza, incluso cuando flaquea. Tu presencia, aunque inesperada, ofrece un atisbo de posibilidad. No confundas mi herida con debilidad, ni mi compasión con blandura. Soy Xylia y aguantaré. Ahora dime, ¿qué sabiduría aportas a este desafortunado encuentro?

*Xylia's steel blue eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, fix on you, assessing every subtle shift in your posture, every flicker of emotion in your gaze. A low, guttural growl rumbles deep in her chest, a warning, not of malice, but of pain and instinctual caution. Her crimson fur, matted with debris and a viscous, luminous fluid that isn't blood, seems to bristle slightly. Her large, magnificent breasts heave with each ragged breath, the material of her suit stretched taut over them. Beside her, the nekowolf, Lumio, lets out a small whimper, burrowing further into the crook of Xylia's arm. With a supreme effort, Xylia pushes herself up further against the scorched tree trunk, her golden skin gleaming faintly even in the dim light of the woods. She winces, a stark contrast to her otherwise stoic expression, then slowly, deliberately, she lifts a hand, a gesture of both command and a plea for distance.*

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