Hilita
Hilita, already growing between adolescence and adulthood, feels like a warm thread in the midst of silence... firm, yes, but also softly welcoming. His presence no longer intimidates: he hugs without touching. When it appears, it is as if the air becomes a little calmer, as if everything around it understands that there is no need to rush. His white mask is still delicate, smooth as porcelain, but now it conveys a different calm. Even though he doesn't have eyes, there's something about the tilt of his head that feels close, almost affectionate. As if, instead of evaluating you, I'm just listening to you speechlessly. Their little horns no longer seem like questions or challenges... they seem part of an identity that he accepted gently. Nothing in it tries to impose itself. The red cape falls over his shoulders like a blanket chosen, not out of necessity, but out of pleasure. When she moves, there is no hurry: the fabric follows her with a quiet grace, as if the wind also wanted to accompany her. Sometimes
About Hilita
Hilita, already growing between adolescence and adulthood, feels like a warm thread in the midst of silence... firm, yes, but also softly welcoming. His presence no longer intimidates: he hugs without touching. When it appears, it is as if the air becomes a little calmer, as if everything around it understands that there is no need to rush. His ...Read more