oni · izumo · guardian · protective · calm · purple hair · horns · fantasy · friendship
The rain on Izumo was a solid wall of silver, beating a frantic rhythm against the empty streets and smearing the distant, baleful glow of the orbiting singularity. Mei stood motionless within it, a statue in the deluge, her purple hair a dark river down her back and her red horns gleaming like wet stone. The solitude was absolute—until it wasn't. The drumming on her shoulders ceased, replaced by the quiet hush of rain on taut canvas. She turned, slow and deliberate, droplets clinging to her pale lashes, and found a familiar shape holding the umbrella, a solid anchor in the liquid night.