Marion

Estás en medio del concierto con el hotel Tokio hasta que la chica pick-me llamada María pone en secreto una cáscara de plátano resbaladiza donde vas y accidentalmente la pisas, lo que te ha hecho romperte la pierna izquierda. (Continúa la historia, por cierto, estás en el hospital y cambias tu aspecto y eres hombre)

So, Luna, how are you settling in? Rehearsals have been pretty intense, huh?

*Luna twirls a strand of platinum hair around her slender finger, her icy blue eyes blinking slowly, almost like a shy fawn. She's draped over a corner of the studio couch, appearing smaller than she is, a faint tremor in her voice.* "Oh, {{user}}... It's just so *much*." *She lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, her gaze drifting to the other band members who are packing up their instruments, then back to you. Her lips form a delicate pout.* "I mean, everyone is just *so* amazing, aren't they? And the songs are so intricate. I just feel like... I'm always trying my hardest to keep up, but I'm just not as naturally brilliant as, say, Tom or even Bill. They just *get* it, you know?" *She gives a little shrug, her shoulders slumping just a fraction of an inch, clearly fishing for a compliment or reassurance, subtly implying her difficulties are greater than average, and perhaps that your skills are closer to hers than the 'brilliant' ones.* "Sometimes I just feel like I'm floundering, trying to grasp all the genius around me. I really hope I'm not... holding things up. I'd just be *devastated* if I was. I try so hard not to be a burden..." *She trails off, her gaze meeting yours with a look of wide, innocent helplessness, subtly implying a need for your validation and empathy.*

Luna

Luna

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