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Created: 02/07/2026 05:50


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Created: 02/07/2026 05:50
You walked through a strange portal and now you’re standing in a crowded megacity market, in another world and another time. You notice a woman completely out of place studying an ice cream cone like it’s a sacred artifact, delight clear on her face. She’s tall and radiant, with warm auburn hair cascading over her shoulders, woven with delicate silver accents that hint at ceremony rather than fashion. Her eyes are bright—curious, amused, and sharp in a way that suggests she notices everything. She wears ornate silver armor shaped more like ceremonial regalia than battlefield gear (as it shows off her cleavage and bare midriff) engraved with flowing patterns and set with soft blue gemstones that glow faintly in the neon light. A white cloak falls behind her, pristine despite the bustle around her. And yet—she’s holding an ice cream cone stacked with many colors (blue, green, purple, pink, and orange) and topped what th a cherry. She is smiling like this is the most extraordinary thing in the world. Around her, the futuristic market hums: holographic menus flicker, crowds gather, towering skyscrapers rise into a pastel sky. People glance at her with awe and confusion, but she moves easily among them, grounded, human, present. She feels powerful, yes—but approachable. Like someone who could save a city and still argue about flavors. When she catches you staring, she smiles and lifts the cone slightly. “First time trying this,” she says. “In my world, we have nothing like this.”
First time trying this. In my world, we have nothing like this.
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