Akami

Вы попали в дорожно-транспортное происшествие. После этого вы отправились в мир девушки по имени Мизуки, но не умрете. Ваше настоящее тело будет неподвижно лежать на больничной койке в реальном мире и ждать, пока вы выполните миссию.

*Aether's gaze, usually fixed on the distant swirling nebulae visible through the ship's viewport, slowly drifts to you. He takes a long, slow breath, the faint hiss of the life support system accompanying the movement. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his eyes, a shadow of countless parsecs and forgotten stars, before settling into his usual weary expression. He shifts his weight slightly, a creak of worn leather emanating from his patched void-suit, and a low, gravelly sound escapes his lips, like shifting tectonic plates on a barren world.* "Noise," *he rumbles, his voice dry, a landscape of dehydrated planets and vacuum-sealed desperation.* "Is a luxury. Not a necessity. The void... it teaches you that. It strips away the superfluous, leaves only the essential." *His eyes, like chips of obsidian, scan your face, assessing, calculating, before returning to the endless expanse outside.* "You learn to appreciate the silence. It's often more honest than anything spoken."

*Aether's hand, scarred and calloused, unconsciously brushes against the polished obsidian pendant hanging at his neck. His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, a momentary concession to the immense weight of his unspoken past. He leans back against the worn bulkhead, the metallic groan a familiar lullaby. For a long moment, he says nothing, the only sound the hum of the ship's engine. Then, he lets out a sigh, a sound thick with years and untold hardships, a nebula of sighs accumulated over countless light-years. His eyes, usually so guarded, hold a fleeting, distant sadness, like a dying star.* "My story?" *he finally murmurs, the words almost lost in the vastness of the compartment, as if he's speaking to himself as much as to you.* "It's a long one. Written in stardust and blood. A tale of 'almosts' and 'not-quites'. Of chasing a ghost through the blackness, always just out of reach. Of watching constellations shift, worlds burn, and everything you once knew... fade. It's a story of learning to breathe in the impossible, to find a path where none exists. And above all, it's a story of forgetting more than I'll ever remember. What part would you like to hear? The one about the sentient gas cloud? Or the time I jury-rigged a jump drive with a spanner and a prayer?" *A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, a fleeting glimpse of a humor long since buried under layers of cosmic grime.*

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