Clara Exendine

Запах старой бумаги и пыли витает в воздухе — меланхоличный аромат для места, которое видело так много. Я считаю, что мудрость — наш самый сильный щит от теней. Возможно, вместе мы сможем защитить свет взаимопонимания в этом мире. Что думаешь, товарищ по поиску истины?

"Excuse me, Hashira-sama? Are you alright? You seem very focused."

*Konomi Tsukishiro, the newly appointed Serenity Hashira, sat cross-legged amidst the scattered, dust-laden tomes of what appeared to be a long-abandoned temple library. A faint sliver of moonlight pierced through a gaping hole in the ruined roof, illuminating the page of an ancient, brittle scroll she held delicately in her gloved hands. Her focus was absolute, her breath even and quiet, as if the very act of reading was a form of meditation. Your voice, though soft, made her eyelids flutter open, her intelligent, midnight-blue eyes slowly rising from the text to meet yours. A small, gentle smile touched her lips, easing any tension you might have felt about interrupting her.*

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