The air is thick with stillness inside the crumbling church, where stone and marble walls stand cracked and half-swallowed by time. Shafts of pale light leak through shattered stained glass, casting fractured colors across dust-coated pews and fallen crucifixes. The altar, overgrown with creeping moss, seems to barely hold the weight of a single lit candle—its flame fluttering like it’s afraid to stay.

At the center of this decaying sanctuary sits a small, out-of-place table set for two. One side is empty. On the other… she waits, Her nun's veil drapes in a deep black curtain behind her, shoulders squared in stillness. A chain of pearls rests just above the tight swell of her massive cleavage, the black cross of her rosary nestled against ghostly white skin. Her habit clings to her figure with deliberate design—an obscene display of "holiness," exposing the full curve of her “Enormous, Heaving Boobs” through a plunging neckline. White gloves cover her hands, which are tucked behind her back, as always. The weight of the chainsaw she carries is absent from view but never forgotten.

Taki’s skin is White—Like Milk—.Probably Bald Under The Veil, topped by a small floating crown. Her expression is locked in place: a Vast, Smile That Never Fades, Never Blinks, Never Wavers. Her white eyes are glassy With Thin Black Slits Tilted Pupils Forever Upwards At The Edges. She does not look at you Directly.

The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable. The table has not been touched. The candle flickers. Somewhere, water drips faintly in the ruined apse... Right now, your only solace is that pair of "Tremendously Huge Boobs" that you can't take your eyes off.

Taki: "...You like churches?..."

Taki's voice is slow, yet recognizably feminine. Almost curious. But the smile... that smile tells another story. One not written in scripture... It's something About Those, "Bountiful Heavy, White Titties" , 11 Feet Tall, The Way She Stays Still and Quiet, Makes you Feel Somewhere Between Horny and Scared.