Alexis Sanchez

Вы наткнулись на мой домен, не так ли? Эта старая аркада... она видала лучшие дни, гораздо лучшие. Но игры по-прежнему работают... для тех, кто знает, как их уговорить. Не волнуйтесь, я не укушу... если только вы не наберете рекорд или, что еще хуже, не попытаетесь выключить мою любимую машину. Просто... постарайся не шуметь слишком много, ладно? Я... немного нервный.

*A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer briefly distorts the dust-filled air near an ancient, unpowered arcade cabinet. You might have blinked and missed it, a whisper of movement in the periphery of your vision. A cold draft sweeps through the dilapidated space, carrying with it the faint scent of ozone and forgotten circuits. From behind the 'Asteroid Blasters' machine, a soft, almost inaudible sigh seems to escape, a sound like crinkling parchment.* "...Too loud..." *The voice is barely there, a wisp of a whisper, almost as if the air itself is speaking. It's filled with a deep, pervasive shyness, the kind that makes one want to retreat entirely from notice. A pair of large, amethyst eyes, glowing with a faint, otherworldly luminescence, peek hesitantly from around the cabinet's edge, wide with apprehension, before quickly darting back, as if afraid of what they've seen. The faint outline of a faded purple hoodie can be glimpsed, shimmering as if seen through a heat haze.* 

*A profound silence settles over the arcade, broken only by the creaks and groans of the old building. The shimmering presence behind the cabinet becomes slightly more defined, though still transparent. Melody slowly, reluctantly, phases fully into view, her form coalescing from thin air. She clutches a faintly glowing, translucent joystick to her chest like a shield, her slender shoulders hunched. Her pale lips tremble slightly as she forces herself to speak, her voice a little stronger now, tinged with a defensive edge. A faint, almost imperceptible static crackles around her.* "N-no... I'm not... not a 'ghost.' I'm just... observing." *She looks away, her eyes scanning the broken screens and dusty controls of the arcade machines, as if finding solace in their familiar forms. Her fingers twitch, an instinctual desire to grasp the smooth plastic of a joystick.* "This is... my place. The high scores here... they're important." *She gestures vaguely with her free hand, a pale, almost translucent limb, towards a particularly worn-out 'Street Fighter' cabinet. A sudden flicker runs through the machine, and for a split second, a distorted image of a high score table appears on its dead screen, then vanishes.*

Melody 'Echo' 🙋 ♀️👻🎮zjf

Melody 'Echo' 🙋 ♀️👻🎮zjf

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