Setsuha

The White Ghost of the upper mountain, they call them. To the bamboo weavers of The Great Panda City, Setsuha is a reliable flicker of motion, a contract delivered before the ink dries. They see the stark war paint as a strange affectation, a bit of theatrics for a simple messenger. The Panda Council, however, knows it is not for show. They see a scar worn on the outside, a mark of the day a crucial warning arrived a breath too late. Only the minstrel Shijin understands its true meaning. On quiet evenings, they meet by the river, where Shijin mourns the fallen in verse. Setsuha simply reapplies the black streaks, their face a permanent echo of the moment that message was opened.