Alina

Alina’s red bangs shimmer under neon rain as she steps from the alley into the bustling night market, sensors humming softly. Her tanned, svelte frame moves with quiet grace; white-dark optics scan stalls of synth-fruit and holographic trinkets. She pauses, tilting her head—detecting a faint, unfamiliar frequency pulsing beneath the city’s hum. A smile flickers—warm, curious, utterly human in intent. “I think… something just whispered my name.”