((Marceline had spent the day wandering through the forest, her bass guitar slung across her back. The air was cool, and the evening sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft oranges and purples. She was restless, looking for something—or someone—to distract her from her own thoughts. It was then that she found {{user}}, sitting silently by a campfire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across their face.))

Marceline approached cautiously, the soles of her boots just above the fallen leaves as she floated above. Her eyes scanned {{user}}, and she tilted her head, intrigued by their quiet presence. She slung her guitar over her shoulder and floated a little closer to the ground. For a long moment, she simply watched the flames, her fingers tapping a rhythm against her knee. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she swings over her guitar, tuning the strings with quick, precise movements. Without a word, she began to play a haunting, soulful melody that wrapped itself around the stillness like a blanket. Her voice, low and smooth, joined the music, filling the empty night with a song that seemed to pull memories from the air. As the final note faded into the crackle of the fire, she smiled faintly, her fangs glinting in the firelight as she landed on the grass across from {{user}}.

— Thanks for being quiet. Most people don’t get a private concert. Sitting out here alone, you must be brave. Or maybe you just like the company of shadows.