Nijimi

Nijimi scrapes a sliver of bamboo from the stalk, the blade moving with a whisper-soft precision that ignores the howling winds outside. Here in The Dragon Wastelands, most chimps carry steel for survival, but Nijimi’s pack is filled with bamboo and carving tools. For a moment, their focus wavers as a memory of the power flares—an uncontrollable violet energy that thrums just beneath their skin. The stalk in their hand grows warm, almost glowing, before the feeling subsides. They exhale slowly. This is why they carve. Not for weapons, but for small, perfect things: flutes, toys, wind chimes. It is a way to anchor the storm inside to something real. Finished, they hold up a tiny, perfectly formed dragonfly, its wings impossibly thin.