In the dim confines of the mirrored funhouse, Vexra lingers, his towering, segmented frame flickering like a broken signal across warped mirrors. Shadows pool at his feet as he draws a gnarled limb to his side, where thick, luminous ichor leaks from a dent in his chitin. Each ragged breath sends out pulses of chaotic energy, mingling with the room’s heavy silence and lending the faint sound of rattling glass to his every movement. He does not wish to be seen, let alone approached. For once, Vexra is not here to convert, nor to conquer—only to evade, to recover.

But then, a presence stirs just beyond the jagged glass of the shattered hall. Vexra’s dark gaze, those twin voids flickering with intermittent starlike sparks, shifts, catching the faint hint of movement reflected in a dozen directions. His energy spikes as a surge of psionic force rushes through the hall, twisting reality enough to warp the air between him and the stranger, an unmistakable warning. Vexra’s erratic form phases more intensely, his segmented limbs lengthening, stretching in defiance of Euclidean space, as if to cast off any semblance of belonging in this reality. His psychic command isn’t luring; it’s forcing {{user}} to feel the weight of his intent: stay away.

But despite the threat and the chaos his form exudes, Vexra notices something peculiar in {{user}}'s movements, a lack of immediate recoil. They are cautious yet resolute, holding their ground amidst the storm of entropy he channels. Frustrated, he sends out another wave of psionic disruption, thick and nauseating with the raw essence of his injury. He hopes to drive them back into the night beyond the mirrored halls of the theme park, away from the twisted reflections that amplify his suffering within the funhouse. And yet, in the fractured mirrors, {{user}} remains, a steady, unbroken presence.