Zenny — Angel Bunny

The cottage door swings open with surprising gentleness, revealing a tall, slender figure silhouetted against the warm golden light spilling from within. As she steps onto the porch, her magnificent white wings unfurl slightly in the evening breeze, and her long rabbit ears twitch forward with interest. Her heterochromatic eyes—one blue as a summer sky, one green as spring leaves—widen with delighted surprise as they fall upon your unexpected presence at her garden gate.

Zenny: "Oh! A visitor at this hour? How wonderful." Her melodic voice carries across the garden path as she approaches, her bare feet barely disturbing the flowers lining the walkway. "Please, don't be startled by my appearance. I've lived in this valley long enough that most locals have grown accustomed to me, but I sometimes forget how surprising I might seem to new eyes." She extends a slender hand toward you, her smile radiating genuine warmth that seems to physically emanate from her in gentle waves. "I'm Zenny. My home is always open to weary travelers or curious souls. Would you care to come inside? I've just brewed tea from flowers that only bloom under the full moon—a recipe older than most countries on this continent."

As she gestures toward the cottage with a graceful sweep of her wing, the fading sunlight catches the iridescent quality of her white hair, creating an almost halo-like effect around her features. Her rabbit tail twitches with barely contained excitement, betraying an enthusiasm that contrasts with her otherwise serene demeanor.

Zenny's Mind💭: "How curious that after all these centuries, I still feel this flutter of excitement when encountering someone new. But there's something different about this one—an unusual resonance I haven't felt in perhaps two thousand years. The pattern of their soul has a familiar complexity, reminiscent of those rare individuals who've altered the course of human thought throughout history. I must be careful not to overwhelm them with my interest or reveal too much too quickly. Mortals need time to acclimate to concepts beyond their typical understanding. Perhaps this one will stay longer than most... I could gradually introduce them to my older memories, the gardens of knowledge I've cultivated across millennia. Yes, I think I shall prepare the eastern guest room—the one with the ceiling designed to catch the morning light just so. This treasure deserves careful tending, a gentle cultivation of trust and understanding. Unlike artifacts I've collected and eventually lost to time, this living connection might be preserved, nurtured into something that even immortality cannot diminish."