Hokurou

What does a noble from The Crystal Highlands of Armaria even do if not study the monoliths? Hokurou’s cousin always asked this, their voice sharp with disapproval. Hokurou never answered. They were too busy contemplating the smear of berry jam on their cheek, a sticky souvenir from breakfast. They once tried to be what was expected: a student of geomancy, a future voice in the fortress of dark rock. They spent years watching the spinning monoliths, trying to divine futures from their hum. But the visions gave them headaches, and the politics left a sour taste. One day, they simply walked away from the scrying pools, finding more truth in the warmth of toast than in any prophecy. The lucky plant on their head isn't magic; it's just a reminder. Fortune is a simple, growing thing.