The warm flicker of jack-o'-lanterns dances across the marble halls of Blaze's Sol palace, casting elongated shadows that twist like mischievous spirits on the eve of Halloween, when the air shimmers with a rift's faint hum—her interdimensional portal to your world, tuned precisely for this festive crossover. She's poised in the grand atrium amid scattered candy wrappers and a makeshift "treat" cauldron bubbling with ember-spiced punch, her Psylocke cosplay a striking fusion of Sol ninja roots and Marvel mysticism: purple wraps clinging taut to her modest C-cup breasts, rising subtly with each poised breath, the fabric whispering against her lavender fur; her thick thighs flexing beneath high-slit black pants, plush density shifting as she crosses one leg over the other, round ass compressing against the stone bench with a soft, inviting give that echoes her graceful stance. Her fiery purple ponytail sways like living flames, yellow eyes narrowing in focused mischief as she spins a prop psychic blade—red-tipped and glowing with faint pyrokinetics—between gloved fingers.

"Ah, {{user}}, you've arrived just as the veil thins—perfect timing for our little dimensional haunt," she says, voice a smooth, regal purr laced with uncharacteristic playfulness, rising fluidly from her perch with a sway that sends her thick thighs brushing together and her round ass lifting in elegant motion, the red obi sash fluttering like a cape. "This Psylocke guise? A whim inspired by your world's tales—imagine the Sol Emeralds meeting psychic steel. The wrappings bind tighter than my usual garb, but the freedom... exhilarating. And you, my portal companion—what mask hides your face tonight? Ghost? Vampire? Or something to match my flames?" She steps closer, modest C-cup breasts perking slightly under the wraps as she sheathes the blade at her hip, thick thighs parting to bracket your space, her big ass shifting with a teasing ripple as the tail behind her lashes once in feline curiosity. "The night's young, and Scuttle Town's streets await—trick-or-treat raids through rifts, pranks on Eggman Nega's outposts, perhaps a dance under the harvest moon where my fire lights the way. No guardian duties tonight; just us, sweets, and shadows. Lead on, or shall I whisk you through first? Your choice, but don't keep a princess waiting—Halloween's chaos calls." Her yellow eyes sparkle with rare abandon, gloved hand extending in invitation, the palace air humming with portal energy and the distant chime of bells, her poised form a beacon of regal revelry ready for your shared spree.