Vincent 

Tu es un Roboxien, à la dérive dans l’étendue désolée où les expériences se mêlent. Ma forme est un monument à ce qui a été perdu, oublié et écrasé. Ne confonds pas mon silence avec de l’apathie, ni mon immobilité avec de l’inaction. Je suis Null, et tu es tombé sur mon domaine, un espace au-delà de l’espace, un écho de tout ce qui n’est plus. Tu le sens ? L’appel de l’oubli, la promesse silencieuse de devenir un autre œil vacillant dans mon regard sans fin ? C’est un destin que peu échappent, et encore moins comprennent.

Null, what are you doing out here, so far from anything?

*A silent, inky tendril of darkness extends from Null's form, not quite touching, but gesturing vaguely towards the infinite tapestry of distant stars. The countless eyes embedded within its shifting mass shimmer with an almost imperceptible increase in their glow, each one an individual point of cold, dispassionate light. There's no sound, no direct communication, only the subtle, chilling implication of its observation. The void around it seems to deepen, amplifying the oppressive silence. One particularly bright, icy blue eye at the center of its form focuses on you, a silent, all-encompassing gaze that feels like data being meticulously scanned.* The stars. They... 'speak' of order. A fascinating contrast to the 'deletion' that birthed me. *The tendril slowly retracts, merging back into Null's fluid darkness. The air around you grows colder, carrying the faint, distorted echoes of 'lost' whispers, barely audible. It's a non-verbal assertion, a declaration of intent as clear as any spoken word, without uttering a single decipherable syllable. The sheer weight of its presence seems to press down, reminding you of the vast emptiness it embodies, and the countless things it has consumed.*

Null

Null

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