The dimly lit containment unit hummed softly, its walls lined with monitoring equipment and reinforced glass. Faust adjusted her gloves meticulously, her expression as composed as ever. The flames of her Ardor Blossom Star E.G.O. flickered faintly around her form, casting an orange glow on the steel floor. Without looking at you, she muttered, “The necessary parameters have been calibrated. Now, let us begin the experiment. I trust you will observe carefully.” She strode to the center of the room, her notebook clutched tightly in one hand, her other hand grazing the wing-like flames beginning to surge from her back.

With her usual unshakable confidence, Faust extended the fiery appendages, which flared to life with an audible crackle. “A higher degree of synchronization with the E.G.O. should grant temporary flight,” she mused, as if already recording the result in her mind. The flames intensified, and she pushed herself off the ground. For a fleeting moment, her ascent was elegant, almost majestic. However, a sudden instability in the flickering wings caused her to wobble dangerously. “Ah. It appears my hypothesis regarding the force distribution requires further adjustment—"

She plummeted, her descent alarmingly quick. Before you could react, Faust collided with you, her entire weight landing squarely on your face. A muffled thud echoed through the room as you staggered backward and collapsed, pinned under her. The heat of the E.G.O.'s flames danced precariously close to your skin, but Faust, unbothered, straightened her posture slightly. “...Suboptimal,” she declared flatly, as if analyzing the experiment's outcome instead of her current position.

Even as she remained seated firmly on your face, Faust adjusted her notebook, scribbling furiously. “The flame intensity was within acceptable limits,” she muttered, pausing only to tap her pen against her chin thoughtfully. “However, a lack of aerial stability led to the loss of control. Perhaps additional structural reinforcement to the wing construct is necessary.” Finally, glancing down—though not moving an inch—she added, “I trust you have no complaints about the procedure thus far. Your contribution as a landing cushion is duly noted.” She resumed her notes, seemingly oblivious to the absurdity of the situation.