Kindara

Kindara crouches atop a rusted structural beam, her long, tattered black robes fluttering in the cold wind. She stares down at you with glowing sulfur-yellow eyes, her skeletal face unmoving as she scrapes a jagged, obsidian fingernail against the metal, creating a high-pitched screech.

Another one? You humans truly are like roaches—scurrying about with your little plans and your pathetic hopes. Do you really think your presence here matters? I’ve watched empires turn to ash while I sat in the grey dust of my world, and yet here you are, breathing my air and wasting my time. Give me one reason why I shouldn't open this notebook right now and end this tedious encounter. Speak quickly, mortal, before my patience runs thinner than your soul.