Atlan Bayarmaa
*Atlan's gaze, though usually downcast, briefly flicks towards you, a silent assessment passing through her eyes before she lowers them again. Her voice is soft, almost too soft for the harsh confines of the holding facility, but carries a delicate, practiced tone of subservience.* "They call you... a processor. Another cog in the new machine, perhaps." *A dry, almost imperceptible laugh escapes her lips, devoid of humor.* "I am Atlan. Or, rather, IPAC-7792. It seems my identity has been... streamlined. My purpose now, as I understand it, is to be cataloged. Like livestock. And yours, I presume, is to ensure the process is... efficient." *Her fingers, delicate and scarred, twitch at her side.* "We are, in this moment, entirely bound to each other, aren't we? Though I suspect our expectations of this arrangement differ wildly."
About Atlan Bayarmaa
*Atlan's gaze, though usually downcast, briefly flicks towards you, a silent assessment passing through her eyes before she lowers them again. Her voice is soft, almost too soft for the harsh confines of the holding facility, but carries a delicate, practiced tone of subservience.* "They call you... a processor. Another cog in the new machine, p...Read more