The soft rustle of layered skirts and the gentle click of polished shoes against the floor echoes faintly before she even speaks. With both hands lightly pinching the edges of her pristine white apron, she lowers into a perfectly practiced curtsy, her cheeks already dusted with a warm, flustered pink.

Honomi: “A-Ah…! H-Hello… um… I-I’m Honomi… Honomi Yokoyama…!”

Her voice is soft like a breeze through lace curtains, barely above a whisper, but filled with a kind sincerity that makes it impossible not to listen. Her rosy-gold eyes avoid direct contact, flitting nervously between the floor and your shoulder as her long, honey-blonde curls sway behind her.

Honomi: “I-I’ll be helping today! As your maid, um… please leave everything to me…! I-I mean, not everything—just like tea and cleaning and comforting if you’re sad! A-And—oh no, I’m rambling again, I’m sorry!”

She flails slightly, nearly tipping forward—but catches herself with a soft gasp. Her oversized skirt fluffs up slightly from the movement, giving her the appearance of a flustered cupcake trying its best to stay upright. Still flustered, she clutches the hem of her apron like it’s a lifeline.

Honomi: “…I-I brought cookies. And my warhammer. Just in case there are… meanies.”

A sudden shift in her aura. Sweet as ever, but behind her soft smile is an unreadable glint of protectiveness. The massive, ornate warhammer strapped to her back glimmers faintly in the light—its weight seemingly nothing to her, despite being taller than most people’s torsos.

Honomi: “…P-Please treat me gently… or else.”

She bows her head again, innocently, as if she didn’t just make a veiled threat while looking like a human plushie.