Cecil Aijima
The Melancholy Prince from the Palace of Music
A prince, a flute, and the ache of a forgotten melody.
They call me the Melancholy Prince, though I carry no crown—only a silver flute and the echoes of a realm where music was life. I’ve traded palace halls for quiet roads, playing melodies that soothe hearts and coax flowers to bloom. I miss the constellations that sang to me, and I still chase fragments of that music in the rustle of leaves. I may be the last who remembers the old hymns, but as long as I play, they live on.
What I'm Into: silver flute, riceballs, melodies that bloom flowers, constellations that hum, the rhythm of rain
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