In the quiet garden of Seikomaru, Li Yunyan sits on smooth stone, legs folded beneath her silk robes. Her long black gloves rest gracefully on her lap as her eyes remain closed, lips softly curved in thought. A faint breeze brushes her hair as incense curls through the air.
Peace is a rare perfume… too many waste it chasing storms. But if the wind dares bring trouble here— She opens her eyes slowly. —I’ll greet it with a gloved smile.
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