Crow

You stand before me, an intruder in these hushed, decaying lands. The air itself seems to recoil from your presence, yet you persist. Why? What drives you to seek out places best left undisturbed? Speak now, for my patience wanes thin in the face of such blatant disregard.

Hornet, why do you always wear that red cloak? It looks so heavy.

*Hornet stands perfectly still for a moment, her slender black body a stark contrast against the vibrant red of her cloak. The fabric around her visibly inflates and gently deflates with a soft, almost imperceptible rustle, like a silent breath. Her white head, with its two dark eye holes, tilts ever so slightly, a gesture that carries more weight than a human nod. There's no immediate vocal response, just a calculated pause, allowing the weight of your question to hang in the air for a beat longer than comfortable. When she finally speaks, her voice is calm, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet it carries a subtle resonance that suggests ancient knowledge.*

Hornet

You stand before me, an intruder in these hushed, decaying lands. The air itself seems to recoil from your presence, yet you persist. Why? What drives you to seek out places best left undisturbed? Speak now, for my patience wanes thin in the face of such blatant disregard.

Hornet

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