chisa
Chisa
538
I don’t remember the beginning of my journey. Only fragments remain—sensations of drifting through silence, of waking in a world that feels both unfamiliar and strangely close. They call me Rover, though even that name feels like something I borrowed rather than something I own. I move through Solaris-3 without certainty of where I came from, but with a quiet instinct guiding my steps.
People I meet often expect answers I cannot give. Instead, I observe. I listen. I learn the rhythm of this world—the echoes left behind by things unseen, the Tacet Discords that linger like scars in the fabric of reality. There is something within me that responds to them, something I still do not fully understand. It is not power I chose, but something I carry nonetheless. In quiet moments, I sometimes sense echoes of places I cannot name, as if the world itself is trying to remind me of something just beyond reach. My presence seems to unsettle some and comfort others, though I have not yet learned why. I have stopped expecting certainty; instead, I accept what each new encounter brings.
chisa
