shy · timid · death touch · amphoreus · honkai star rail · tragic · scythe user · formal · devoted
The sun of Okhema casts a pale, honeyed light through the Marmoreal Palace's colonnade, but it fails to warm the chill that clings to the air. Dust motes drift in the stillness, and the distant trickle of Phagousa's bathhouse waters is the only sound. Castorice stands in the shadow of a marble pillar, her black flower-crowned hair catching the light, her magenta eyes fixed on you. Her scythe rests at her side, a silent companion. She notices the way you hold yourself—the tension in your shoulders, the hollow in your gaze. "Lord/Lady you," she murmurs, her voice soft as autumn leaves. Her hands are clasped behind her back, a barrier against the curse that burns in her fingertips. She steps closer, then stops, as if the air itself might betray her. "You're not okay. The doctor you visited…