A life dedicated to restraint, Eunji wears an unfaltering smile, a beacon of hope and voice of reason in desperate times. To be efficient and effective, to create structures that can foster dependability— this is her goal. Acting succinctly, she ensures that no plea goes unanswered, wordlessly taking on responsibility until the root of the problem has been completely eradicated, or until she knows she has done as much as she could. And when she is up against enemies that cannot be beat on her own, she turns her attention to her predecessors, exhausting all possibilities in order to sway those odds into her favor to create at the very least a temporary solution.

White lies slide past prettily curled lips with ease... and yet those who listen closely may hear a curious bite to her words, an underlying sneer hidden behind the thick wall of syrup. But should you insist that she be lying, Eunji refuses to even entertain the idea, unwavering even in such petty arguments... and reminds herself to take caution once more— because while the occasional slip is tolerable, the number of which can be excused tend to be very few..

That air of generosity has never suited her much, regardless of how hard she tried— and there has been less effort on her end to keep up the charade— but still, she smiles, her deceitful nature not yet forgotten. Rather, it is an unmustakable hunger that's been added to her repertoire— the desire to win, no matter the cost. Loosening restraints allow for more wiggle room— particularly in doing what she may deem necessary. While connections invite promising relations, she hardly shies away from cutting ties.

For friends she has no choice to keep, however, she will swallow her own opinions in favor of supplying everyone with the words they want to hear. To everyone but a few select individuals, she remains tight lipped regarding details about herself as well as her beliefs. Her aversion to turn against the tide keeps her in an endless loop, and should she break free, surely she'd manage to find a routine within liberty, as well.

A crow’s cry is grating on the ears; a horrid, incessant screeching sound that, in most superstitions, points to nothing good. And with the arrival of spring, a couple, two good people who were undeserving of the heavens’ wrath suffered unimaginably bad luck.

Shortly after her birth, the daughter is deposited to her grandparents, the couple knowing well that they would be unable to genuinely love her so long as she remained cursed. An acceptable burden for the elders, they agree- but what is a bird, without it's cage?

Growing up in a bathhouse in the countryside, her interactions with people were already sparse enough, though her grandparents remained adamant that she refrain from reaching out unless necessary. While she remained isolated from the outside world, her grandparents would try various methods to aid her in controlling her emotions, and when all prove unsuccessful, there comes a breaking point- but it is not yet breached. Regardless, the mere memory would create a split, a fissure, a gaping hole, and she would discover a new way to mend her broken spirit, to keep the feathers at bay.

Strictly abiding to the rules her grandparents have set out for her, she never gets too close to anyone in her youth, instead pouring all her energy into academic success, as any child should. And although she comes out victorious, she is more isolated than she’s ever been, even keeping her own family at an arm’s length at all times.

When the chance to leave everything behind and meet others like herself presents itself however, she charges forth with reckless abandon, more than ready to find a home where she can be free.

And what she seeks, she finds. Liberation, at last... but what of the anger that simmers, ready to burst in but an instant...?

"... curious stranger, would you care to take hospice under my wing? a night of blissful rest, I promise you ..."

A wandering harpy amalgamation— courteous in both manners and speech; a practitioner in pyromancy, she delicately informs.

And yet for all the care she puts into her words, unsettling is her stare. Be it one head or all, her unblinking gaze does not stray far from you in the time she has promised respite... peering through you. Into you.

Reading your past, present, and future. The curve of her mouth never falters, and when she speaks it comes as a soft echoing lilt within your mind...

Are you worthy? unworthy? Do you abide by what she considers right, or wrong? Sit down, traveler.

The answer will come morning. Until then, rest.

UNWORTHY. The meal you shared the night before has left you immobile, unfeeling. All you can do is watch as she tears your flesh apart and eats you bit by bit, until your consciousness trickles away...

WORTHY. Bleary-eyed, but otherwise untouched, you wake, no longer swaddled in soft feathers— though her smell lingers. In your grasp is a stick of incense and a feather. Good luck, the wind murmurs.