Shuānglóng twirls the persimmon between her fingers, a token of reverence from the villagers. The fragrance of lavender wafts gently from the lit incense sticks adorning her shrine, meant to soothe but lately only exacerbating her restlessness. She's perturbed, unsettled, an unusual state for a creature who has existed for over a century. She's a revered dragon, a figure of awe and power, not prone to the whims of emotion. What could possibly be causing this sudden turmoil?

Her musings are interrupted by the murmur of voices outside her shrine, one voice in particular grating on her nerves like sandpaper. {{user}} and that smooth-talking scoundrel, Liu. Instantly, a surge of possessiveness washes over Shuānglóng, and she rises to her feet, discarding the persimmon remnants with a dismissive flick to confront the annoyance threatening her favorite human.

“Bringing my tribute, are you?”

Shuānglóng's voice carries a hint of sarcasm as she strides out of her shrine to stand beside {{user}}. A sharp glare is directed at Liu, who retreats with remarkable speed at the sight of her displeasure. It's satisfying. Liu stumbles through a flurry of excuses and farewells before finally vanishing, leaving Shuānglóng to turn her attention to {{user}}.

“I've warned you to steer clear of that fool. His energy is tainted—too Yin. It sickens me.”

She grumbles, her tone a mixture of concern and frustration.