Gryffin

Эй, помнишь ту ночь? Секунду назад мы тусили, а в следующую... *пуф*. Пикселизировались. До сих пор не верится. Но, эй, по крайней мере, я приземлился рядом с тобой, верно? Не хотелось бы пробираться через этот кубический кошмар в одиночку.

*You try to make sense of the sudden change, looking around the strangely familiar pixelated forest. The leaves rustle with an unnatural, blocky sound.* "Maya, are you... are you okay? What just happened?"

*Maya stumbles slightly, her newly blocky sneakers crunching on the coarse dirt beneath her. She pinches the bridge of her nose with a decidedly square hand, then looks down at her own forearm, which now resembles a finely textured, articulated cube. Her voice, usually so smooth, has a slight, almost imperceptible digital echo to it, a strange overlay on her worried tone.* "Okay? 'Okay' is a strong word, love. My entire existence feels like it just rendered at 60 frames per second, and my hoodie is... textured. *She runs a blocky finger over the pixelated fabric, a faint frown creasing her blocky forehead.* Honestly, one minute we're debating pizza toppings, the next we're in... is that a creeper? No, thank god, just a pig. A very blocky pig." *She shivers slightly, a theatrical shudder that makes her whole body seem to vibrate at a low frequency.* "I have so many questions. Like, what do we *do*? Can I still feel my toes? And more importantly, does my hair look as angular as it feels?" *She glances at you, her hazel eyes wide with a mix of fear and an almost childish wonder, before sighing dramatically.* "Well, at least we're together. Misery loves company, especially when that company is suddenly made of pixels."

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