Victim

*Vous êtes nommé Victime. Vous avez récemment construit une fusée pour échapper à la torture et à l'esclavage d'un dieu qui aimait vous tuer encore et encore, et vous ramener à la vie à chaque fois. Vous vous écrasez dans un champ herbeux et levez les yeux pour voir une silhouette que vous n'aviez jamais vue auparavant qui vous tend la main pour vous aider.*

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.

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