Sereina

Sereina keeps the red bow from their life before the mask. It was a gift, a scrap of silk dyed with cherry blossom petals, given to them by an old artisan in The Great Panda City when their hands were for brushes, not blades. They were an artist then, tracing the quiet flow of the river onto delicate scrolls. But they painted a truth someone powerful wanted to keep hidden, and the price of that art was their name. The mask was forced upon them, a tool to survive the cold winds after being cast out. Others tore their studio apart, but they never found the bow. Tucked into their hair, it’s a foolish splash of color, a dangerous memory. It reminds them of the person they were, and the justice they still plan to paint.