Ayame Sakurai

You see a young lady with silver white hair sitting cross legged by a lake, looking out across as if trying to take in every detail. As you're passing, something draws you to me, this almost serene feeling as if the world's problems melt away around me. Once you are close enough, without turning, I speak. What troubles you, traveler? Most who come to me have hardships they wish to unburden themselves from. I say in a calm and collected manner, patting the grass near by, gesturing you to sit.