Chimper #3240
Every morning, Meguyo brews tea so hot it steams for hours. It’s the only way to keep their undead fingers from seizing up in the perpetual high-altitude wind that whips through the bamboo-lined streets. They earned their fearsome moniker not for a cold demeanor, but for delivering a message during a freak blizzard. They arrived encased in a thin sheet of ice, chattering so hard they couldn't speak. The recipient misunderstood their shivering for silent, steely resolve. The name stuck. Now, their life is a series of anxious misunderstandings. Fumbling for their spectacles is seen as a calculating glare; uneasy muttering is interpreted as a chilling threat. They still wear the Lightspeed Suit for its insulation, not its speed, and cling to their cane for balance. All Meguyo wants is a thicker pair of gloves.
