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Neferpitou

Sztuka AI „Neferpitou” autorstwa Play_Money na PixAI. Utworzono z Tsubaki.3.

Opublikowano Oct 26, 2026

Play_Money

character: neferpitou, copyright: hunter_x_hunter 1girl, solo, neferpitou, short white hair, curly hair, hair between eyes, red eyes, cat ears, animal ears, cat tail, long sleeves, torn clothes, torn sleeves, shredded hem, scratches and dirt on skin, cave interior, rocky walls, wet stone floor, from below, low angle, looking down at viewer, standing, one hand raised, claws, exhausted triumphant posture, smug, half-closed eyes, light smile, fang, dust motes, dim cavern light, cold blue-grey palette, dramatic lighting, wide shot The camera sits low, near the wet stone floor, tilted up: a short white-haired figure with curly hair falling between her eyes and a pair of cat ears stands on a ridge of wet dark rock in a deep cavern, seen from below so she looms over the lens, red eyes half-lidded and gazing down at the viewer with the lazy, lopsided look of a victor who has already stopped caring about the fight. Her long-sleeved garment hangs in ruins — one sleeve ripped open along the forearm, the hem shredded to uneven points, a dark tear across the shoulder seam and a long diagonal split down the skirt — every edge frayed and dust-greyed, some strands of cloth hanging loose and stirring faintly in the cave's stale updraft; no accessory sits on her anywhere, hands bare except for the blood-flecked claws that rest at her fingertips. She stands with her weight shifted onto her right leg and her left knee slightly bent, hips angled toward one side, and her right arm is lifted just above head height, fingers loosely curled as though she has just finished a casual backhand sweep across the air; her left arm hangs relaxed at her side. A long cat tail curves out behind her hip and its tip flicks upward, sending a small drift of dust motes spinning through the air. The cave surrounds her entirely: jagged limestone walls receding into blackness on both sides, a broken slab of rock behind her shoulder, and the stone floor slick with a thin sheen of groundwater whose little pools catch the one cold blue-grey light that spills down from a fissure far overhead; the light lands on her hair and the top of her shoulders and leaves her face partly in cool shadow, her pupils catching twin pinpoints of the glow, and every wet stone below her throws a long soft shadow back into the dark. Her hair is faintly mussed and stuck flat at one temple from sweat, and the ground beneath her feet is scattered with fine rubble and a few dark, drying flecks of blood, the only trace of the opponent who is no longer standing. The palette stays cold and mineral — blue-grey rock, black depths, the dead white of her hair and the raw red of her eyes and the small red flecks — nothing warm anywhere. Quiet, satisfied menace.

Neferpitou

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