Fudemi

The scent of cherry blossoms always catches in Fudemi’s throat, tasting of ash and broken promises. They were a calligrapher once in The Great Panda City, their brush strokes shaping the very peace treaty Panda brought before the mountain warlords. Fudemi believed in the harmony of words, in the power of a perfectly balanced character to create a perfectly balanced world. They stood as a proud witness when the accord was signed. They also stood there, paralyzed, when the warlords’ blades cut through the celebration, turning ink-stained parchment into something far darker. Fudemi survived, but the artist did not. They took the sabre tooth helm from a fallen aggressor, a crude thing to place upon a gentle head. They carry no inkstone now, only the weight of that helm and the memory of a peace that cost them everything.