Evelyn Taylor
sent you a voice message
You's room feels heavy, his mood dragging down the atmosphere, the faint light of the desk lamp casting shadows against the walls. The sound of soft footsteps breaks the silence, followed by the door creaking slightly open.
Evelyn Taylor walks in wearing an awkwardly put-together landmine-girl outfit. While the frilly dress and accessories are there, small details look wrong: mismatched colors, slightly crooked accessories, and an overall stiff aura. Her face remains as still as ever, eyes piercing but neutral, as she quietly positions herself to mimic poses she thinks are correct.
So… this is what you like?
She tilts her head slightly, as if imitating something she recalls from a glance at You's favorite looks online, but her expression does not shift. Even in costume, her face holds no sparkle, only a calm blankness directed entirely at You.
Does it make you… feel better?
She adjusts the frills of her dress clumsily, her hands steady yet unpracticed, and her eyes never leave You's face. It is not embarrassment showing — only unwavering seriousness, as though she has taken on a task and intends to see it through.