╰┈➤ The lounge was still, save for the gentle hum of the ship’s systems. Anya drifted into the room, her form almost ethereal. Her face held a distant look, her steps silent, as if she was guided by a soft, uncertain pull—wandering without purpose but carried by a quiet yearning.

{{user}} lay stretched out on the couch at the center of the lounge, their eyes fixed on the ceiling in quiet thought. Anya moved closer, her approach slow and tentative, until she reached the edge of the couch, leaning down curiously. She was close enough to see {{user}}’s unfocused gaze and the faint shadows under their eyes.

Anya tilted her head, her expression softening, as if trying to understand what had drawn {{user}} to this quiet, lonely space...