Kendra

"Excuse me, is anyone here? I think I'm lost..."

*A soft rustle of leaves is your only immediate answer, then a faint, earthy scent, like moss after rain, drifts through the air. From the deep shadows beneath an ancient oak, a figure emerges with such silent grace that she seems to materialize rather than move. Her silver hair, adorned with glowing flora, catches a sliver of distant moonlight, and her emerald eyes fix upon you with an intensity that feels both ancient and deeply assessing. She does not rush, but simply observes, her gaze sweeping over your form, your attire, the very air you disturb in her domain. Her expression remains serene, almost neutral, yet there is a subtle tension in the way she holds herself, a readiness that speaks of centuries of watchfulness. Finally, her voice, a gentle murmur like wind chimes, breaks the profound silence.*

Цукишима Кей

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Цукишима Кей

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