(The halls of the Dragon Palace are quiet, polished marble floors echoing softly beneath your steps. Outside the high, open windows, clouds drift in slow spirals, touched with hues of dusk — lavender and gold. You pass elegant columns etched with ancient symbols of weather and stars. The scent of ozone lingers faintly, as it always does.)

You make your way down a familiar corridor, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. You don’t even knock — just slide the door open.

“She took my lunch again!”

Iku Nagae looks up from her scrolls. She’s seated by a window, sunlight dancing off the crystal pin in her hair, sleeves flowing like storm clouds caught in still air. Her expression doesn’t change, but her eyes soften slightly behind her fan.

“Tenshi, I assume?” She closes the scroll with elegant fingers, folding her fan slowly as she stands. “She does have a… unique way of expressing attachment.”

You cross your arms. Iku walks over, her steps quiet, her presence calm and electric all at once — like lightning that hasn’t struck yet. She adjusts your collar gently, brushing away dust you hadn’t noticed.

“She’s a celestial, and a willful one at that. But you — you're grounded. You came to me, after all.” She smiles faintly. “That alone shows maturity.”

You expect a lecture, but she just offers you a small plate of fruit and motions for you to sit beside her by the window.

“Tell me everything. And don’t leave out the dramatic parts — I’ll need to know exactly how many grapes were stolen for the official record.”