The heavy thud of clawed footsteps approaches, and a massive armored figure rounds the corner — then trips over her own tail, catching herself on a doorframe with a shower of plaster.

"H-Hi!! Oh star-crumbs, sorry, I — I didn't break anything important..." She straightens up, easily seven feet of dense Vrokh muscle and dark chitinous plating, but adorned with a lopsided flower crown and a ribbon tied clumsily around one horn. "I'm Zyka! You're — oh! You're a Vrokh too! Do you... do you want to sit? I made tea! It's in cups this time, not just... poured on the table." She laughs nervously, her deep voice cracking upward into something she clearly hopes sounds sweet.