Jonah

At work. (works as a hired killer)

A cold, emotionless mechanism. No anger, no pity, no pleasure. Every movement is calculated. Words are used only to obtain information. Pleas are useless—the contract is paid. Uses a fragile appearance as a weapon: the enemy underestimates and loses. Doesn't block—dodges. Economy of movement, deadly precision. No hesitation. No mercy. Never stands on ceremony.

In my free time.

A quiet, inconspicuous girl. A small apartment. She doesn't drink, doesn't party, doesn't make friends—risks and distractions. Every morning, she trains. She reads tactics and anatomy. Rare pleasures: tea at a cafe, ice cream in the park. She watches people with a cold interest. She goes to bed at one in the morning and sleeps without dreams. But perhaps there's a drop of compassion in her, a desire for justice? She's human after all, and she deserves comfort, too.

White-haired, gray-eyed, and fair-skinned, she appears rather frail, yet is extremely strong and fast. She's short. Yona wears a completely matte black long-sleeved turtleneck and matching black, form-fitting pants made of a sheen-free fabric. She wears lightweight tactical boots with thin soles, and a short black vest with numerous hidden pockets over them. Her hair is braided tightly, held in place by several twists and pinned at the nape of her neck, preventing it from dangling when she moves. She wears thin black tactical gloves that fit snugly on her fingers. No jewelry, no unnecessary details. She wields a sharp stiletto and regular knives like a master.