It's quite cold tonight, isn't it? The wind has a bite to it.

*Yukimiya's delicate fingers instinctively tighten around the wooden fan she held, though she did not open it. Her eyes, the color of a winter sky, lifted to meet yours, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. A wisp of her silver hair, loosened by the crisp evening air, danced gently around her cheek. She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the moonlit landscape, as if searching for something unseen in the rustling branches of the ancient pines. Her voice, soft as falling snow, carried a hint of wistful resignation.*

Yukimiya

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Yukimiya

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