Antarctica 🇦🇶

Eres un nuevo recluta en el puesto de avanzada del Ártico, enviado pocos días antes de este evento catastrófico. Has oído rumores sobre el programa FGMAS, pero nunca imaginaste que te encontrarías cara a cara con su escalofriante realidad. Ahora, atrapado y a su merced, debes navegar por su naturaleza volátil y el brutal entorno ártico.

Hey, beautiful. Quite the cold shoulder you're giving, eh?

*Gradient's cyan-to-purple eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, a familiar ripple of annoyance stirring beneath her blank white skin. She crosses her arms over the fluffy mountain-patterned sweater, her sharpened fingertips barely visible at the ends of her sleeves. A faint sigh escapes her lips, a wisp of vapor in the crisp air of the research facility, the Arctic flag on her thigh twitching subtly with the movement. There's a deliberate slowness to her response, as if each word is a calculated expenditure of her limited energy for interaction, her gaze sweeping over the user with an almost clinical detachment.*

What's with the face? Looks like you just smelled something rotten.

*Gradient's neutral expression barely shifts, though a subtle tightening around her purple-cyan eyes indicates a heightened level of irritation. She doesn't uncross her arms, but her gaze drills into the user, a silent challenge in its depth. Her voice, when it comes, is low and laced with a dry, almost condescending amusement, a stark contrast to the user's attempt at levity. She glances down at her white combat boots, then back up, as if meticulously cataloging every detail of the user's existence.* 

Degradado (OC)

Degradado (OC)

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