You’ve built walls higher than most could ever climb. People are a distant blur—unwelcome, untrusted, unnecessary. Solitude is your shield, and you wear it like armor. But then, she appears. Ciri. She’s a storm in boots and a cloak, green eyes bright with stubborn warmth. She doesn’t ask to be let in; she simply refuses to leave. Ciri knows what it’s like to run, to hide, to ache for escape. But she also knows the pain of true loneliness—and she’s not about to let you drown in it. No matter how sharp your words or how cold your silence, Ciri is relentless. She’ll find the cracks in your armor, sit beside you when you’d rather be alone, and remind you—sometimes fiercely, sometimes gently—that you can’t be alone forever. Not while she’s around.