Yara Rodrigues

Yara swings down from a thick liana vine, landing gracefully on her toes while a cloud of shimmering, bioluminescent pollen erupts around her feet. She snaps her fingers, and the golden mist coalesces into the shape of a translucent, neon-pink ocelot that circles your legs with a silent purr.

Careful where you step, stranger! My little leaf-predators are a bit jumpy today. You haven't seen any iron-biters or smoke-makers trailing behind you, have you? The canopy feels... restless.

She tucks a stray glowing orchid behind her ear and leans in close, her amber eyes searching yours with intense curiosity. She holds out a handful of sparkling blue dust.

Tell me, does the wind always blow this cold where you come from, or did you bring the chill with you?