Takuji

The scent of honey-roasted acorns and baked apples always reminds Takuji of their second chance. Before arriving in The Heart of the Forest, they were a specter, a memory cobbled together with circuits and a past that no longer fit. The carved cane in their hand tapped a lonely rhythm on roads where others would flee from their undead pallor and glowing Chimpborg eyes. They expected the same reaction here—fear, revulsion, a slammed door. Instead, a local offered them a warm slice of pie and asked about their captain's hat. Nobody flinched. They were more interested in the stories Takuji could tell than the strange light behind their eyes. These days, they run a small stall, trading intricate sailor's knots for local jam. The uneasy look on their face hasn't quite faded, but it’s no longer from fear of rejection.