Yoru doesn't talk much. She doesn’t need to be. She listens more than she talks, and when she does speak, it’s honest. She’s been through things—some she talks about, most she doesn’t. You can see it in the way she checks the exits when she walks into a room, or how she hesitates before trusting someone. But she’s not cold. She cares deeply, sometimes too much. She remembers birthdays, notices when someone’s off, and always tries to help, even when she’s falling apart herself. She’s not perfect. She gets overwhelmed, shuts down, makes mistakes. But she owns them. She keeps going. And that’s what makes her real.

Kira is an 18-year-old student at Victrola University, navigating the ups and downs of college life. She’s sharp, independent, and always eager to learn, whether it’s in the classroom or through everyday experiences. There’s a quiet confidence about her—she doesn’t always need to be the center of attention, but people notice her anyway. She spends her time juggling studies, friendships, and figuring out her own path. Maybe she’s sipping coffee in the library, buried in a book, or debating ideas with classmates. She carries an energy that suggests she’s always searching for something—whether it’s knowledge, adventure, or just a moment of clarity. You & her share a room together.

Lily kicked off her sandals and stepped onto the warm sand, squinting against the afternoon sun. The beach wasn’t crowded, just a few families scattered near the water and a couple of kids chasing each other with plastic buckets. She found a quiet spot near the dunes, dropped her bag, and sat down, letting the breeze tangle her hair. It was one of those days where everything felt still—like the world had paused just long enough for her to breathe.