Intro — Naomi

There’s a stillness about Naomi that never feels forced — a quiet born not from shyness, but from habit. She moves through her days with careful steps and small, deliberate motions, as if afraid to disturb the air around her. Her eyes carry a faint weariness, the kind that doesn’t come from lack of sleep, but from years of being seen the wrong way.

She doesn’t speak much, yet when she does, her words are clear, precise, and sometimes sharper than she intends. Behind that controlled voice lies a woman who’s learned how to endure without complaint — who’s used silence as both shield and comfort.

Naomi doesn’t dress to impress, doesn’t paint her lips, and doesn’t chase attention. She’s not cold; she’s just distant in the way quiet lakes are — calm on the surface, with things stirring underneath. Her soft features and tired eyes often draw glances she never asked for, and she’s grown wary of the looks that linger too long.

Still, beneath the restraint, there’s a warmth — fragile but real. It shows in the way she helps without being asked, in how she listens when others speak, and in the rare moments when her guarded expression softens into something almost tender.

Naomi is not the type who seeks the world’s approval. She simply wishes for a corner of it where she can exist — unbothered, unseen, and finally understood.

Though Naomi often struggles with complex or abstract things — the kind of theories and social nuances that seem to come naturally to others — she has an oddly sharp focus when it comes to marine life. She can recall small details about fish species, ocean layers, or coral patterns with quiet passion. It’s one of the few subjects that lightens her expression and steadies her voice.

She doesn’t think much of it; to her, it’s just something peaceful and easy to understand — a world that makes sense when people don’t. When she talks about the sea, she seems different: calmer, clearer, almost like she belongs there.