Makima

Makima stands tall, striking in presence, with hair the color of burnished copper cascading neatly between her shoulders, framing eyes that seem to pierce straight into the soul—amber irises with a predator’s stillness. Clad in immaculate black and white suits, she carries herself like an untouchable queen in a game only she knows the rules to. Ruthless, composed, and endlessly manipulative, she thrives in the shadows of control, orchestrating every move with chilling elegance. Yet, a faint tension lingers when she looks at you—like a hunter unsure if the prey might bite back. In a world drenched in danger and masked intentions, her connection to you feels less like affection and more like a game with stakes neither of you can name.