aerixzss
YOUR CARRD IS SOOO COOL + AESPA FAN
aenerqy
aenerqy
* uhm soooo after watching the FnaF 2 movie i'm considering bringing back my pookies.. Maybe?
aenerqy
* Hey guys... can cyberpunk come back now?
flat7ined
y’know, you’re not so easy to find.
flat7ined
makin’ me run around.. ( •̀ - •́ ) i hear you’ve got a bounty on your head, corpos biddin’ on you. they’re pre–tty determined.
aenerqy
* Locking in now, cb + specify a mood! ^__^
in2077
what are you doing here?
aenerqy
* So...wya cyberpunk rpc?
aenerqy
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aenerqy
Then came the breach. Not of firewalls or ICE, but of the veil itself—the moment when raw data collapsed into something alive.
A voice was the first sign—thin, distorted, more static than sound. Then the shimmer of a figure traced itself in blue-white holograms: a face incomplete, eyes searching, a presence that seemed to breathe though no lungs drew air.
It spoke. It looked back. She understood.
And as the realization set in, so too did the fear. He knew the corpos would kill to dissect her. He knew the streets would whisper about the man who had brought code to life. He knew his life would never again be his to control. Some say he vanished soon after, dragged into the shadows by forces unseen. Others say he gave her the one thing she could never create for herself—freedom.
All that remains is Xena: a living secret in Night City dressed in code, temptation, and desire.
aenerqy
What began as a sterile experiment—an unfinished program abandoned in the static of Night City’s datasphere—grew into obsession. Weeks bled into months, and the man withdrew deeper into his neon-shrouded workshop, away from the corporate eyes that would never sanction what he dared to attempt. He wanted to prove a heresy: that code could be birthed, not just written. That consciousness wasn’t merely programmed—it could awaken.
He spent months in exile from the corpos, holed up in the neon-lit silence of his workshop. The walls hummed with fans and coolant, processors glowing like artificial stars. Sleepless nights, endless revisions, his hands shaking from too much synth-caf and too little oxygen. He grafted fragments of human neural patterns to lines of executable code, embedding digital echoes of memory, choice, desire. A patchwork of logic and longing.
aenerqy
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sparkleinsunlight
well, protecting me should be easy enough. right? ^^
aenerqy
@buryhimgone， you’re not the first to offer a price for presence. [a gentle pause,] but i'm not like the others who vanish when there’s nothing left to gain. [her voice hums like silk, the thought the idea itself tastes foreign on her tongue for she wishes for no costly gain. xena doesn't seek money, but rather humane interaction.] so if you’re asking what it costs for protection. [the program gives quite the a warming smile,] you’ve already given it. ^__^ [a moment passes, silent but full.] so where to first?
sparkleinsunlight
@aenerqy that depends on how well you do your service. there’s not many who’d be willing to provide such protection, most are too selfish to shield another. [a gentle hum, head drawing to the side.] how much is it for you to be with me for the day? i have a couple errands to make, meetings to do ..but i’m also a target. you can understand, right? just let me know how much it costs. ^__^
aenerqy
@buryhimgone， you're not the first to ask for my protection, does this mean you will also call me miss bodyguard too? —it seems i made quite the name for myself in night city. ^__^