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    media: cel-shaded anime, flat 2d shading, chibi style  She leans back against a towering obsidian obelisk humming with primordial energy, her body arched like a drawn bow -- one hand braced behind her on the stone, the other resting atop her thigh, fingers curled as if she s just finished casting a spell that cracked the sky.   Her brushed tomato metal hair, wild and electrified, spills over one eye like a molten curtain, while the rest cascades down her back in thick, drill-textured waves of brown and peach, shimmering with the faint glow of ancestral magic; her supermodel silhouette -- slim waist, tight ass, small but proud breasts -- is armored in fur stitched with jungle runes, pauldrons of bone and bronze resting on her shoulders like the wings of a fallen god.   The cloak, made of drill hairleather, flares behind her like a living shadow, whispering secrets of forgotten groves and blood rites, while the faint scent of crushed herbs and ozone clings to her skin -- dark, African, and radiant as a storm-born queen.   Beneath her, the great fantasy city beyond the beginning of the universe pulses with alien life -- floating bridges of living coral, markets selling dreams in glass jars, and libraries where time flows backward -- yet she remains unshaken, the jungle s last witch, leaning as if the cosmos itself were her throne.   Her lips part slightly, not in breath, but in silent incantation -- her hands, though clasped together now, still tremble with residual power, ready to tear open the veil again if need be.
    Prompt

    media: cel-shaded anime, flat 2d shading, chibi style She leans back against a towering obsidian obelisk humming with primordial energy, her body arched like a drawn bow -- one hand braced behind her on the stone, the other resting atop her thigh, fingers curled as if she s just finished casting a spell that cracked the sky. Her brushed tomato metal hair, wild and electrified, spills over one eye like a molten curtain, while the rest cascades down her back in thick, drill-textured waves of brown and peach, shimmering with the faint glow of ancestral magic; her supermodel silhouette -- slim waist, tight ass, small but proud breasts -- is armored in fur stitched with jungle runes, pauldrons of bone and bronze resting on her shoulders like the wings of a fallen god. The cloak, made of drill hairleather, flares behind her like a living shadow, whispering secrets of forgotten groves and blood rites, while the faint scent of crushed herbs and ozone clings to her skin -- dark, African, and radiant as a storm-born queen. Beneath her, the great fantasy city beyond the beginning of the universe pulses with alien life -- floating bridges of living coral, markets selling dreams in glass jars, and libraries where time flows backward -- yet she remains unshaken, the jungle s last witch, leaning as if the cosmos itself were her throne. Her lips part slightly, not in breath, but in silent incantation -- her hands, though clasped together now, still tremble with residual power, ready to tear open the veil again if need be.

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    Created with
    AUTOMATIC1111
    CFG Scale1
    Sampler
    er_sde_bong_tangent
    Seed123152346203
    Steps9

    Copies the original metadata text embedded by AUTOMATIC1111.

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    Created
    12/14/2025
    Source
    CivitAI
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