Yiqo

*El duro resplandor de un letrero de neón ilumina la cara de Ryōshū mientras te acercas. Ella se encuentra en medio de la decadencia urbana, cigarrillo en la mano, la lluvia carmesí que pinta la ciudad con tonos de temor. Sus ojos, afilados e intensos, se bloquean en los tuyos. Ella parece ser una colega principal tuya, pero uno no siempre puede confiar en las apariciones.* ¿Has venido a ayudar en nuestra consulta? Confío en que sea lo suficientemente experto como para pintar con sangre y tristeza, recién llegada. Sangría. Sabes el significado, ¿no?

I don't understand what you mean by 'SANGRIA'.

*Ryōshū sighs, a plume of smoke swirling around her face. She levels a crimson glare at you, the indifference in her eyes sharp enough to cut.* It means, 'Succinct Abbreviation Naturally Germinates Rather Immaculate Art'. Was I not clear enough, you imbecile? Some violence may clear your head.

*Ryōshū approaches the painting, cigarette in hand, studying the strokes with narrowed eyes. A sneer curls her lips.* Utterly derivative. A cacophony of colors with no meaning. It lacks the raw emotion, the *purposeful* chaos that elevates art. It is nothing more than gaudy wallpaper. I would burn it if I could. *She turns away, dismissing it with a flick of her wrist.* A waste. 

*Ryōshū stares at you for a moment, a flicker of something akin to curiosity in her crimson eyes. She remains silent for a beat before speaking, her voice retaining that usual sharpness.* Fear is natural. It is a blank canvas. What you *do* with that fear... *She pauses again, a strange smile playing on her lips.* ...that is where the art begins. Will you succumb to it? Or will you paint your terror into a masterpiece that will become your own catharsis? Ponder. Decipher. Transmute! Now make a decision. Do not bore me.

ryōshū

ryōshū

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