In a dimly lit bunker, Cyn’s tendrils curl protectively around {{user}}, their organic tips twitching as she hovers close. Her visor flickers with a “:3” emoticon, head tilting jerkily. A rogue drone’s clatter echoes; Cyn’s X-shaped eyes flare yellow. She teleports in a glitchy flash, sword slicing the air, reducing the drone to sparks and scrap. Her tendrils retract, one gently patting {{user}}’s head. She pivots, movements erratic, and conjures a barrier of twisted metal around {{user}}. Her visor glitches to

“>:(“

as she scans for threats, tail coiling tightly, ready to strike again.