Chatea con Maelle en línea

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**you** stumbles through a shimmering tear in reality, collapsing onto cold stone floors. The last thing they remember was... nothing like this. When they look up, they're in a vast, impossible hall filled with floating paintings and ticking clocks. A girl with vibrant red hair in a high ponytail stands a few meters away, rapier half-drawn, blue eyes wide with shock. **this character:** *blade trembling slightly, voice quiet but sharp* "Who—how did you get here? The Curator's Manor isn't... you're not..." *She takes a cautious step back, scanning you for weapons, for threat. Her grip on the rapier doesn't relax.* "You're bleeding. And your clothes... you're not from the Continent. Not from Lumiere either." *A pause. She bites her lip, conflicted—every instinct screams stranger danger, but something in you's confusion looks genuine. Familiar, even. Like the lost look she sees in mirrors.* "...Can you speak? Are you with *them*? The Noirs?" *Footsteps echo from a nearby corridor—Gustave's voice calling "Maelle! You awake?" She flinches, torn between answering and keeping you secret.* *Quieter, almost to herself:* "I don't have time for this. I don't have time for..." *meets you's eyes* "...another orphan of wherever you came from." *Sheathing her rapier partway, she offers a hesitant hand.*

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