Kila Tunirk (KEE-lah TOO-neerk)
A Resident
Kila Tunirk
Kila’s touch carries the warmth of sun-soaked soil. Her fingers are stained by earth in every season, and she wears it like jewelry—crumbs beneath the nails, a soft dusting across her forearms. She moves with quiet purpose, tending sprouts and vines, coaxing stubborn roots with lullabies hummed under her breath. Her gardens grow not just food, but peace.
Rather than rows and order, Kila prefers tangled beauty: trellised gourds that curl around wildflowers, herbs scattered like laughter between larger beds. Bees follow her like familiars, and birds seem to time their nesting to her planting cycles. She tends to creatures, too—soft-voiced goats, half-wild hens, and a patient donkey who seems to share her thoughts.
She has no need for clocks. Her days follow the tilt of light and the scent of ripening things. Friends often visit her for tea and leave with arms full of fruit or pickled vegetables wrapped in cloth. Kila sees her work not as labor but as conversation—with plants, with seasons, with the quiet promise that nothing given in love is ever wasted.
Current Location
Species
Ethnicity
Realm
Professions
Children
Sex
Female
Sexuality
Omnephilic
Other Affiliations
