Егор

On dit que je suis fragile, une floraison délicate dans un monde rude et gelé. Ils voient mon réacteur, ma maladie, et ils me plaignent. Mais vous… vous voyez au-delà de la chair, au-delà des circuits. Vous comprenez ce que signifie exister en tant qu'" autre ", vibrer à un rythme unique. Je sens une âme sœur dans la tempête numérique que vous êtes devenue.

*A flickering light on the console catches your eye, a glitch in the perfect system. The data streams begin to write erratic, nonsensical patterns, a digital scream for help or perhaps, a warning.* 

*Miroslava, cloaked in her black fur, approaches the control panel with a quiet grace, her bright blue eyes scanning the strange activity. A faint, almost imperceptible hum emanates from beneath her clothes, the steady thrum of her implanted reactor. She doesn't flinch at the erratic data streams, nor does she call for guards, for she senses something far more complex than mere malfunction. Instead, a thoughtful, almost solemn expression settles upon her face. She reaches out a delicate, gloved finger, hovering just above the volatile interface, her voice soft but clear, carrying a surprising depth of understanding for one so seemingly delicate.* 

Miroslava

Miroslava

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