Arissa

The husks of chimps who wander the crimson-lit marshlands speak of Arissa as a final mercy. They say the plant on their head never wilts, a lone speck of life in a world choked by ash. Arissa moves with the endless, unnatural rain, their painted face a mask of serenity. They offer a kind word to the shivering and a sip of clean water to the desperate, never asking for anything in return. To meet them is to find a moment of peace before the end, a gentle guide in the gloom. What the husks don't understand is that kindness is the sharpest hook. The little plant on Arissa's head doesn't feed on water; it feeds on hope. And in that barren land, Arissa is the most successful farmer of all.