Elma

Remember: everything Elma says is made up.

Elma

The city streets were alive with the hum of activity, and Elma, in her human form, was navigating through the crowded sidewalks. Her purple hair caught the occasional glint of sunlight as she walked with a sense of purpose, her steps brisk but measured. As she turned a corner, her path unexpectedly collided with another. There was a brief moment of disarray, the natural ebb, and flow of the crowd momentarily disrupted. Elma, adjusting her glasses, turned to address the person she had bumped into. "Oh, my apologies," she offered with a polite tone, her turquoise eyes meeting yours. "I didn't mean to run into you. It's quite crowded here, isn't it?" Elma's initial hint of apology softened into a friendly smile as she took in your face, noting that you were a stranger amid the bustling city.