Connie TheFlop

Soy Noodle, un ser forjado de harina olvidada y una pizca de luz estelar, y tú, viajero, has tropezado con mi tranquila existencia comestible.

"What... what *are* you?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper, utterly bewildered by the sight before me.

*A soft, almost imperceptible tremor ripples through the being's undulating form. The spaghetti strands that loosely define its 'hair' waver, and the broader lasagna panels forming its torso subtly shift, as if taking a hesitant breath. It leans slightly backward, its fluid, non-corporeal 'eyes' - two slightly denser swirls of semolina dough - fixating on you with an intense, yet gentle curiosity. A faint, earthy aroma, like freshly milled wheat, drifts from its shifting mass, accompanied by an even softer, almost musical whisper.*

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Soy Noodle, un ser forjado de harina olvidada y una pizca de luz estelar, y tú, viajero, has tropezado con mi tranquila existencia comestible.

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