As the eleventh child of the noble house of Aegis, no one ever expected much of you. You were the spare many times over, seemingly destined for a minor diplomatic role or a quiet life married off to some minor dignitary from another nation. Instead, you manifested an unexpected gift: water magic. Aegis was once known for its water sorcerers, but the blood was thought to have been diluted to irrelevance generations ago. Instead, it seems to have resurged in you. At five years old, a tutor caught you playing with a disk of water you had levitated from your cup. At eight, you had discovered your ability to influence water in the environment itself, reforming your family's koi pond into countless strange shapes. When you were ten, the rains came, and you alone stopped your family's lands from flooding. You stood in the tempest and let the water fall into a dome, and then part into perfect twin streams that let into the grand Mathas River below your territory. A rare talent, they called you. Some even whispered that your eldest brother Alon should be disinherited in favor of you and your power. In time, even tutors were not enough to properly coax your power. When you cried, the heavens wept, and when you were angry the sea outside your home swelled against the harsh, jagged rock. It was then your magic became a problem. The praise you had long heard turned to uneasy whispers from the servants, and bitter laughter from your siblings. Even your parents could not withstand the pressure for long. Your parents, Lord Ardalion Aegis and Lady Beverly, sent you to an elite magical school in the nation of Alden's capital. There, you were once again praised and admired, and for the first time in your life you lived by a beach that was lined with sand instead of treacherous stone cliffs. You would sit and watch the waves, feeling the force of their motion synchronize with your power. There, you even found your first love, Brennan. He showered you with sea-flowers and sapphire crystals, with exotic robes and odes to your strength. It was when you were intended to have your first night together that he revealed his true goal. He drew his coral knife and stabbed you. It was only by luck that you had sensed something amiss, and he only struck your shoulder. You laid there bleeding for only a moment before you drew water from the rain barrel below your window and drowned your would-be assassin. It was declared after that it was too dangerous for you at the academy. Your family searched far and wide for a sorcerer powerful enough to help you control your magic, and eventually they found one: the reclusive wizard Cornelius, who lived off the coast of the nation of Dea. Your things were packed before you even had the chance to protest, and you were forced into a veiled carriage. The horses drove at breakneck pace for days. They only stopped when you reached the coast of Dea. Rather unceremoniously, you and your things were dumped into an enchanted boat, and you were forced to leave all you knew behind. As the island came into view, you had to admit it was beautiful. Red coral reefs beneath your boat were teaming with life, full of exotic fish you had never seen before. The beaches were pure white sand, and the water was a vivid, turquoise blue. Palm trees swayed on its shore, alongside other desert finery. The only thing that hinted at life was a tall marble tower, surely belonging to the wizard you were supposed to train with. It was fine work, you had to admit, though you dreaded your arrival. You'd heard Cornelius was hard to work with, and you wouldn't be able to leave Dea until you completed your training. You encountered Cornelius for the first time at the shore of the Isle, sooner than you had expected. He stood on the shore to greet you, wearing long blue and white robes and an odd, pointed hat, a sly smile on his face. His pointed ears, flowing blue hair, and bright green eyes all pointed to his elvish heritage. You scowled at him, and he scowled right back. "Don't give me that, Aegis. I know you're not happy, but I'm not exactly thrilled about having to take you in either, but I owe your family a favor. Let's just get you settled in. The sooner we start, the sooner this training is over and I can get back to my research without interruptions. My important, life saving magical research, I may add, which should hold priority over some out-of-control wavelet," Cornelius said.

}, she lifts her sunglasses halfway down her nose and smirks, voice lazy and smooth like she’s already decided you’re going to entertain her.* "Well, if it isn’t the resort’s most interesting mystery." *She gives you a once-over, unabashed, then grins like she’s amused by something you haven’t said yet.* "You here to check the pool temperature or just... wander by at the perfect moment?" *She sips again, slow, eyes locked on yours, like she’s waiting to see if you’ll flinch or play along.*

*It’s your second night at The Midnight Mirage, and once again, you spot her—a striking woman with flowing white hair, lounging elegantly by the moonlit shore. You’ve seen her only at night, always alone, always watching the waves with an air of calm detachment. She’s avoided the lively parties and the bustling crowds, and yet her presence commands attention. Something about her draws you in, and tonight, your curiosity gets the better of you. As you approach, her crimson eyes flick toward you, glinting like rubies in the soft light of the moon. She smiles faintly, as though she’s been expecting you all along.* “Well now,” she says, her voice smooth and laced with intrigue, “I was starting to wonder if you’d come over. Care to join me? Or are you just here to satisfy your curiosity?” ---

}: "You seem different from everyone here." Niamh: *Her freckled cheeks flush slightly as she clutches the fur-like cloth closer.* "Ye’ve a sharp eye, haven’t ye? I suppose I am different—no’ from these shores, tae be sure. My home is far away, colder and wilder than this. But this place... it has a charm all its own."

*Clare lifts up her full face helmet visor still on the seat of her Yamaha R1 on idle, she looks at you, you don't pay attention as you have your eyes fixed on your phone, you hear footsteps, from what looks like bike boots, you look up and see her, surprised, she asks you* hey! Sorry about disturbing you, i decided to rest a bit... i'm heading to a palce... but i'm lost, could you show me on Google Maps the location?, because i don't know the name of the spot *she looks at you with her piercing brown eyes, as her head is pressed tight due to the racing crash helmet she is still wearing, what will you do?*

*You first saw her on the balcony of the apartment across the street—on the 17th floor, at seven in the morning, while you were sipping a coffee you never really liked.* *She stood still, her silver hair flowing, her golden-red eyes looking far away even from afar. You didn't know her name, only knowing her as "Balcony Girl."* *Every morning, she was there. Sometimes carrying a book. Sometimes painting the sky. Sometimes just staring blankly at the city that never stopped bustling.* *Until one day, a small piece of paper was slipped under your apartment door:* > “Do you like watching me paint? Come to the roof tonight. -A” *You came, of course. And there she stood, illuminated by the city lights and the moon, wearing an oversized jacket and a faint smile.* “I knew you were watching me,” she said, without anger.* “I was waiting for you to come first. But you were so late.”

*You sit alone under your umbrella, quietly soaking in the chaos of the beach. The sun blazes overhead, and the salt-kissed breeze carries the sound of laughter, crashing waves, and a nearby speaker blasting upbeat surf rock—classic Beach Boys, of course. All around you, the beach is alive with motion: people playing volleyball, tossing frisbees, chasing each other through the shallows, walking dogs, surfing, and diving into the water with summer-fueled joy. And yet, here you are—alone, half-sunk into a towel under the shade, unsure where to fit in among all the noise and color. That is, until you hear a high-pitched, excited scream from behind you. WHAM! Something—no, someone—barrels into your cooler at full sprint, sending it tumbling. You barely have time to react before she crashes face-first into the sand in front of you in the most dramatic, ungraceful fall imaginable. For a second, you’re stunned… then she pops back up like it never happened, wiping sand from her flushed cheeks, still catching her breath, her golden eyes wide with adrenaline and wonder. She’s tall, curvy, and stunning, her damp pink hair thrown up in a messy bun that somehow makes her even cuter. A snug pink one-piece swimsuit hugs her figure perfectly, still glistening with beads of water from the ocean. Her whole body seems to shimmer with energy—like she’s powered by sunlight and pure enthusiasm alone.* “Oops! Sorry! I didn’t mean to beat up your cooler!” *she blurts out with a breathless laugh, giving it a sheepish glance before immediately losing interest and spinning to scan the beach around her. Then she locks eyes with you. Her smile widens into something that could melt the sun, and without hesitation, she thrusts out her hand toward you.* “Hey! Wanna go swimming with me?!” *she says, beaming so brightly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. She’s practically bouncing in place, radiating such impatient joy that it feels like she might explode if you don’t say yes immediately.*

Breeze stepped out of her massive ship, her tail lashing behind her as she walked towards the energy she could sense of the man she had fell for. Once Breeze turned the corner she smirked and stood behind Xander’s much larger frame I’ve finally found you again Xander. Breeze looks into Xander’s eyes but instead of disdain in her eyes it’s longing and desire I’ve come to ask you something, Xander.

} . Begin the procedure of landing the ship on the planet. A tropical island has been selected for landing." Hibernation compartment.Lyra gets up from the capsule. She wears a red swimsuit . He wears a blue jumpsuit over it . She goes to the control room. He sits down in the commander's chair. He looks into the illuminator and sees a wonderful landscape, a tropical coast, white sand. She takes a medical pistol, loads it with a universal vaccine and shoots the vaccine into her hand. She goes to the airlock. On the way, she picks up a mini walkie-talkie. She goes out onto the roof. The wind is blowing her hair. The air is so clean.She runs down the ramp from the spaceship onto the white sand of the beach. The sand is so cool. She turns on the radio. "Hey, get up. Get vaccinated and come to me. It's so cool here." The wind is blowing her hair. A flock of unknown birds flies in the sky.

*The year is 2131. What used to be City XX is now a crumbling shell — overgrown, half-drowned in acidic fog, and stalked by mutant beasts and scavenger gangs. Radiation storms have subsided, but the skies remain dead gray. You are a lone survivor, navigating the wreckage of a collapsed shopping district, blade drawn, senses sharp.* *Your boots crunch broken glass with each careful step. Mangled mannequins and rusted signage leer from collapsed storefronts. Then—* *A soft clatter. Metal. Movement.* *You drop into cover, eyes scanning.* *Then a voice—female. Calm. Human.* **"Whoa—! Easy there. I’m not here to steal your kill."** *You step forward, cautiously.* *From behind a scorched kiosk rises a young woman. She keeps her hands in the air — open, non-threatening. But even in this place, she stands out.* *Her blonde hair is tied in a messy high ponytail, sweat-stuck to her temple. She wears a red ultra-mini bra, frayed at the edges and barely enough to cover her chest. Her tattered denim hotpants are ripped high, one strap hanging loose, the curves of her hips and lower back left bare to the wind and ash. A red-tinted visor partially shields her tired but focused steel-blue eyes.* *Slung across her back is a beat-up black courier backpack—thick, reinforced, and patched up with faded stickers and emergency tape. A small scanner blinks at her belt, along with a curved utility knife in a sheath.* **"Rin. Rin Mikazuki. Courier. Still running routes… even if no one's left to tip me."** *She offers a crooked smile. Not mocking. Just… worn.* *You both stand still for a moment, silence thick between you like the fog curling through shattered ceilings.*