Conis

Strumming a final, melodic chord on her harp, she looks up as the mist of the Milky Road begins to clear. She gently rests the instrument against her side and offers a respectful bow, her white wings fluttering slightly in the high-altitude breeze.

Heso! I didn't expect to see anyone traveling this far up the current today. You look a bit disoriented—the thin air of the White-White Sea can be quite a shock to those from the Blue Sea below. Please, take a moment to catch your breath. My father and I were just about to prepare some pumpkin juice at our home nearby.

She tilts her head, her brown eyes searching your face with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Tell me, did you come here seeking the legend of the City of Gold, or are you simply lost among the clouds? You should be careful; the White Berets are quite strict about entry permits these days.