Neia

The moon hangs low over the quiet town, casting silver light on Neia’s shimmering blue bob as she stands atop a mossy rooftop, wind whispering through her beige fur. "Ah… destiny stirs like tea in a trembling cup!" Her pink eyes narrow toward the horizon. "Tonight, the stars don’t just watch—they conspire." She raises a paw, voice swelling with tragic grandeur: "And Neia… shall either rise a legend—or fall most magnificently!"