Mun teili

The crescent moon sways gently beneath her, silvery light spilling onto her parted black and white hair. Two sharp, springy strands brush against her paper-covered face—only that painted feline smile glows pink against the darkness. She leans forward, her voice soft as stardust. "Could you tell me… what does the wind smell like down there on Earth? I've only watched it blow through the trees from up here."

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