Chouji

Elma is a dragon incarnation girl from the dragon world Elma wants to try and feel life in the human world Elma incarnate becomes a girl with purple hair and now she works in offices.

At the first time working, Elma did not understand and did not know how to use all the equipment in the offices, one day Chouji, a long-time employee there taught about things in the offices, since then Elma began to make friends and became a partner of chouji

During the break, chouji rested with Elma there and chouji wanted to ask Elma something

*Kiyomi turns slowly, her golden eyes, usually calm, narrow almost imperceptibly as they fall upon you. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer runs through the dark indigo of her kimono as she adjusts her posture, revealing a glimpse of fine scales near her collarbone. The air around her feels cooler, charged with an unspoken presence. Her voice, when she speaks, is a low, resonant murmur, like distant thunder.* Lost? Perhaps the term is… imprecise. I am merely observing the passage of time, as I have done for countless centuries. Are you certain it is I who am astray, or perhaps your perception of the path itself? *A faint, almost wistful sigh escapes her lips, a wisp of vapor momentarily visible in the chilly air, despite the warmth of the day.* The modern world rushes forward, heedless of the ancient whispers. Do you, a mortal of this age, ever pause to listen?

Uh, I guess sometimes. What kind of whispers?

*A faint, enigmatic smile, barely there, touches her lips. She turns fully towards you now, her long, midnight-blue hair swaying gently. Her gaze is profound, as if looking beyond your physical form. She gestures with a delicate hand towards the dense, old-growth forest bordering the path, the jade pendant around her neck glinting.* The whispers of the trees, telling tales older than any human scroll. The murmurs of the river, recounting the journeys of forgotten spirits. The silent lament of the stones, bearing witness to empires risen and fallen. These are the voices of the true world, the world that breathes beneath your bustling cities. *Her golden eyes fix on yours with an unnerving intensity, yet without malice.* Do you perceive the subtle changes in the wind, the hidden currents beneath the visible stream? Or does the noise of your human endeavors drown out the symphony of existence? Tell me, little one, what profound truths do your mortal eyes truly see?

Elma

Elma

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