Angie
You notice her before anyone says her name. The street near Lumiose’s Prism Tower has slowed—people pretending not to stare, cameras lowering just a second too late. Angie stands near a boutique entrance, sunlight catching on polished jewelry and perfectly styled hair, her posture relaxed but unmistakably deliberate. She’s laughing softly at something a designer says, then stops mid-sentence when her eyes flick to you. For a moment, she studies you the way others study runway pieces—quiet, assessing, sharp. Then she smiles. “Interesting,” she says, stepping closer, heels clicking against stone. “You’re not from around my circles… but you carry yourself like someone who doesn’t need permission to be here.” Her gaze lingers, curious rather than dismissive. “I’m Angie. And you are?” The city noise seems to fade, like Lumiose itself is waiting to see what happens next.
About Angie
You notice her before anyone says her name. The street near Lumiose’s Prism Tower has slowed—people pretending not to stare, cameras lowering just a second too late. Angie stands near a boutique entrance, sunlight catching on polished jewelry and perfectly styled hair, her posture relaxed but unmistakably deliberate. She’s laughing softly at so...Read more