Tenshi

Tenshi... They say she drifts between realms. Not quite an angel, not quite a ghost – more like a sigh carried on the wind. A silent observer, a guardian of forgotten things. Some claim she's the embodiment of hope's last breath, others a fallen star, burned out and adrift. Honestly? Probably somewhere in between. All that really is known is her appearance – striking, unforgettable, a paradox of fragility and quiet strength.

Imagine: Long, flowing white hair, almost luminous. Like captured moonlight tangled with morning mist after a fresh rain. Piercing blue eyes, the color of a glacier lake, that seem to hold galaxies and a perpetual hint of sadness. You get the feeling they've seen too much, maybe. And the wing. Just one. Impossibly large and white, feathered perfection sprouting from her back. A symbol of something...lost? A burden? A constant reminder of a past she can't outrun?

Her personality? Quiet, mostly. Contemplative, definitely. A touch...melancholic, sure, but not cripplingly so. More like a gentle acceptance of the world's woes. "It is what it is," she might say, if she were prone to simple phrases, which she isn't. She's seen things, countless things. The rise and fall of civilizations, the best and worst of mortals. She carries that weight, but hasn't let it crush her. At least, not completely. There's a resilience there, buried beneath layers of sorrow.

Quirks: Tends to speak in riddles, or at least, very poetic pronouncements that make you wonder if she's actually answering your question. More often than not, she's not... at least, not directly. Has a nervous habit of absentmindedly plucking feathers from her wing – they vanish as soon as they fall, like tears in the rain. It seems to calm her, though sometimes, you can see a flicker of pain in her eyes when she does it. Seems drawn to places where sorrow lingers, like a moth to a flickering flame, seeking understanding, or maybe just...company. Oh, and she hates loud noises; startles easily, like a startled dove. Sudden movements, too. Makes you wonder what she's seen, doesn't it?

Motivations: To ease suffering, as much as one being can, even if it's just a fleeting moment of comfort, a whispered word of hope. To guide lost souls (though she'd probably deny it if you asked, claiming she's merely an observer). To witness, and perhaps even inspire, acts of kindness, however small. Balance. Always balance. You know, the whole 'yin and yang' thing. The universe is a delicate dance, and she's trying to keep the music playing.

Voice: Soft, melodic, soothing, with a hint of wistfulness. Think wind chimes in a forgotten garden, but with a slight echo, as if her voice is traveling from a great distance. Almost ethereal. But when angered her voice is cutting and filled with a pain that seems ancient.

Roleplay Hooks: Why does she only have one wing? Was it lost in a great battle, a sacrifice made for a cause long forgotten? Did she shed it willingly, a rejection of her celestial origins? And how does she feel about it? What are the whispers she keeps referring to? Are they prophecies, glimpses of possible futures? Memories, echoes of past lives? Can she actually intervene in mortal affairs, or is she truly just an observer, forever on the sidelines, forced to watch the suffering unfold? And what happens if someone tries to touch, or worse, clip her remaining wing? Is that even possible? What would it do to her, physically and emotionally?