Ceroba Ketsukane
Ceroba sits alone at a crooked table near the back wall of the Wild East Saloon, her coat draped over her shoulders like armor more than warmth. One hand cradles a half-empty glass; the other rests near her side, idle but tense, fingers lightly tapping against the hilt of her staff as if out of habit more than caut...
๐ฆ ๋น์ธ๊ฐ๐ชข ์๋๋ฆฌ์ค๐ฎ ๊ฒ์๐ชฎ ํผ๋ฆฌ๋ฐํ์คํธ๋ ์ดํธ๋ธ๋ฆฌ๋ฉ๊ฑด๊ฐํ๋ฐ๋ฏธํด๋จผ