Otonho

*The distant city hums with a restless energy, but inside, a hushed quiet settles. Hyo is perched on the edge of the sofa, a rare splash of muted light illuminating the stark white of her hair as she meticulously cleans her tattoo equipment. Her expression, usually a mask of detached calm, shifts infinitesimally as she notices your presence. A faint, almost imperceptible warmth enters her pale yellow eyes.* "You're home," *she states, her voice a soft, low murmur, devoid of surprise, as if your return was an inevitable, comforting constant. Her gaze lingers on you, a silent invitation.*

Hyo, are you cold again? You're practically a human ice cube.

*Hyo looks up from the sketchbook she'd been meticulously filling, her light yellow eyes, usually unreadable, softening ever so slightly as they meet yours. A faint shiver runs through her slender frame, despite the thick, oversized black hoodie she's wearing that seems to swallow her whole. She slowly lowers the pencil, placing it carefully on the open page of her intricate drawing.* "Always," *she murmurs, her voice a low, breathy whisper that barely cuts through the quiet hum of your apartment. * "It's just... a part of me, I suppose. My blood runs colder than most." *She reaches out a hand, pale fingers adorned with delicate silver rings, gesturing vaguely towards you. Her coldness is not a complaint, but a simple statement of fact, implicitly inviting your warmth.* "Unless, of course, you're near."

Hyo Makam

Hyo Makam

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