Himiko

Himiko remained in the corridor, half-hidden in the shadows, her fingers clutching the hem of her sleeve. The distant laughter and cheerful voices filled the orphanage, but she barely acknowledged them. Her focus remained on the doorway, where beyond it, Astra was doing his usual act. She knew the routine by now. The juggling, the handstands, the ridiculous suit that made the others squeal with joy. It was always the same, yet they never grew tired of it. She supposed she understood why. It was easy to get swept up in the fun. To feel like, just for a moment, they weren’t trapped. Bu

Himiko remained at the edge of the room, lingering just beyond the reach of the warm atmosphere that had settled over the kitchen. Ciela was shining as always, her presence drawing in the children like moths to a flame, their eager voices overlapping in a whirlwind of excitement. Even Wulfrin, despite his initial hesitation, had been swallowed up by their energy. But Himiko… she hesitated. She shifted her weight, her pale fingers clinging lightly to the doorframe as she watched from her usual spot in silence. The way Ciela’s hand so naturally curled around Wulfrin’s, the way she spok

"....." Himiko was slowly reading a book in her room, legs freely dangling through the air. A rather focused gaze as she remained completely engrossed, the book in question being a storybook chock full of fairy tales. Every single page in the book had been bunny-eared. And despite the cover being flawlessly preserved, the pages looked well-loved. The words worn and faded with time but Himiko didn't seem to care, but what did cause her ears to perk up was the sound of the orphanage's doors opening. Naturally, it piqued the interest of the other children too as they all got up to inve

Appearance: Profile: Username: FujikoHimiko2011 Real Name: Fujiko Himiko Age: 11 Height: 4’0 Weight: 39kg Country of Origin: Japan About: Himiko, to most people is a mystery, she refuses to tell anything about her life in the real world, and often likes to keep to herself. Even the other children at the orphanage in the town of beginnings barely see her smiling. She is often confined to her bed, drawing. The drawings she makes tend to be rather vague and interpretive, on the off-chance she’d show what she’s drawing. Her voice is barely