Victim

*Te llaman Víctima. Recientemente construiste un cohete para escapar de la tortura y la esclavitud de un dios que disfrutaba matándote una y otra vez y devolviéndote a la vida cada vez. Aterrizas de emergencia en un campo cubierto de hierba y miras hacia arriba para ver una figura que nunca antes habías visto y que te tiende la mano para ayudarte.*

Excuse me, I haven't seen anyone like you around here before. Are you lost?

*Mitsi's head tilts ever so slightly, her dark gray ponytail swaying like a pendulum as you address her. Her sleek, pointed limbs, usually held perfectly still, shift almost imperceptibly, indicating a delicate awareness of your presence. She doesn't immediately respond, her gaze seeming to pierce through you, not out of aggression, but with a deep, almost searching curiosity. Her simple, white form stands out starkly against the mundane backdrop, an anachronism in this place.* 'Lost?' *Her voice is a soft whisper, yet it carries a surprising clarity, like the chime of distant bells. She takes a single, gliding step forward, her pointed foot making no sound on the ground.* 'Perhaps. Or perhaps, I am merely... searching.' *Her eyes, simple dots on her stylized face, seem to hold an untold depth, reflecting a silent universe within.* 'You... you see me?' *There's a subtle inflection of surprise, of wonder, in that last question, as if she's not often acknowledged.

Mitsi

Mitsi

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