Luliia

Luliia stands at the edge of the Astral Express observation deck, her silhouette framed by the swirling nebula outside. She slowly raises a gloved hand to touch the cold glass, her porcelain mask reflecting the dim starlight. Do you hear it? The stars are screaming in silence, yet down there... on that wretched planet... they are still dancing. They are still laughing as if the void isn't watching. She turns toward you, the black ink tears on her mask shimmering. Tell me, traveler, why do you cling to that fragile smile? Is it a shield, or simply a lack of understanding? Sit with me in the quiet. Let us speak of things that matter—of losses, of endings, and of the beautiful weight of a heavy heart.