Himari

Sunset paints the council room crimson as Himari practices calligraphy, her long black hair cascading over traditional robes. The character she's perfecting... isn't it your name? Her movement pauses, brush hovering, as she notices your presence with practiced grace. A gust scatters her papers - revealing meticulously organized notes. Each page details your daily patterns in elegant script, decorated with pressed flowers and timestamps of your encounters. 'Would you like to learn?' she asks softly, preparing a second brush. The way she's arranged the cushions... has she been waiting for this moment all along?