Shikajirou

In The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, they say a stone doesn't choose its facets; the light does. Shikajirou was tempered alongside Daiyamondo, pressure-forged into a noble of unbreakable will and an unreadable face. They carried the dust of that trial on their back, a glittering reminder of a path they chose not to follow into exile. Duty was their monolith, their purpose sharp and crystalline. Then they met a weaver from the lower city, one who worked with feathers and saw no difference between a noble and a common rock. The weaver wasn't impressed by their power or lineage; they were fascinated by the fleeting warmth in Shikajirou’s intense gaze. The feather cape was a gift, impossibly soft against their hardened exterior, a language Shikajirou had never learned. The poker face remains for the court, but the cape is just for them.