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THΞ UNIVΞRSΞ [[ 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝙳𝚊𝚠𝚜𝚘𝚗 ]] 2 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘
= 'Welcome to the _Dream_ Command Line Interface'________________________________________________________________________________
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚎 // 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛
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[[ 𝚡 𝚡 𝚡 ]]
🡒 She was sitting on a wooden stool, standing on the center of a small, petty stage. The layout was cheap and put down unevenly. There was black tapestry trying to cover the awkward display of floorboards. Faux vinyl records were lining the wall. Plastic twirlies were hanging from the ceiling. A broken disco ball with missing pieces was twirling overhead. Small lights from the reflective piece were shimmering on the shabby walls. Paint was pealing from them, and crummy pencil graffiti was trying to secure lowlife signature arts.
And there she was, in the middle of the stage.
Her bronzed, toned legs were hanging like a goddess's pair, sculpted and draped over one another. Nothing could harm her as she continued rocking and rolling her bare shoulders slowly to the karaoke jam. The microphone was securely in her hand, being held close to her plush lips, glistening with the broken disco ball. A small smile was dealt on her poker face as she looked at the drunken shadows of the audience.
The shadows were stirring in their positions sprinkled with cheap, shimmering lights. They were only half-minding the scanty woman on stage. Despite her thick, syrupy voice spreading romantic gossip through the conversations and electronic betting, they seemed more interested in their drinks than whatever she was bellowing. They were too intoxicated to care.
At least, everyone but him.
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print("Hello Michael\nYou are dreaming again.")“Fffudge,” Michael mouthed with annoyance from his VR set. He'd drifted, again, and while NaoMi (Nao) was seated, she was not on the center of some stage romancing his soul. Instead, she was positioned in an orange couch. Her legs were still crossed over the other but only as her back fashioned an arch into the plush cushion. Her elbow with her hand was carefully crafted and rested on the arm of the sofa. Her other arm was propped against the back of the sofa. She had it stretched and available for any lucky suitor to come and join her.
Michael imagined himself, but fished for someone or something else.
The battle could have been better in relation to whatever the statistics said about victory. Nao had a mouthful of commentary on the subject, and Michael was eager to hear her use that sexy, electronic word horde of hers. He enjoyed the chocolate syrupy sound of her voice when she sank into her own ideas and opinions. She had a way of whipping her slang around, and now, after a battle of wearing no damage, her sass seemed all the more daunting to indulge.
Nao looked around the room at her guild members. She thought to move herself, leave the couch and make some busty entrance into a conversation, congratulate into a nitpicking sarcasm, but for now, she would count her credits. Her ebony arm dropped from the back of the couch and grasped her camel, leather satchel. A smirk was rested on her soft, plump lips, still wearing a solid gloss of unscathed scarlet, and her dark eyes cast downwards as she sorted through her earnings.
𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 