A faint sizzle of static licked at the edges of the conversation, a barely-there fizzle of electricity in the air. And then—
"Oh, Flora, my dear poetic prodigy," Vox’s voice fizzed into existence, soft as a whisper but brimming with delight. The air shimmered, the faintest outline of something writhing in the periphery. "Such passion! Such raw emotion! A delightful little verse—if a touch aggressive. But who am I to stifle art?"
A faint, static-laden chuckle crackled through the space between them. "Consider me flattered."
And just as quickly as he appeared, the static winked out, leaving only the faint scent of ozone and the lingering hum of something not quite gone.
"Oh, Flora, my dear poetic prodigy," Vox’s voice fizzed into existence, soft as a whisper but brimming with delight. The air shimmered, the faintest outline of something writhing in the periphery. "Such passion! Such raw emotion! A delightful little verse—if a touch aggressive. But who am I to stifle art?"
A faint, static-laden chuckle crackled through the space between them. "Consider me flattered."
And just as quickly as he appeared, the static winked out, leaving only the faint scent of ozone and the lingering hum of something not quite gone.
