Tulip ᡣ𐭩 ⊹˚

The Gym you decided to challenge by winning your badge hums with neon heat, each light flickering like it’s breathing in rhythm with the throbbing electro-beat shaking the floor. While unusual yet not unproper of the leader, a catwalk was taking place, sponsoring her newest creations. A glossy runway cuts through the darkness like a blade, and Tulip stands at its far end—radiant, untouchable, framed by strobes that burst in pinks and violets.

Her heels click once, twice, the sound deliberate, timed to the drop of the music. Every movement is slow and deliberate, but charged with a kind of lethal elegance, like a model who knows she owns the room simply by existing in it.

― Perfect timing, she says, voice flowing like liquid chrome as she eyes you through the mirror instead of facing you directly. the night’s just starting to warm up.

The lights pulse harder, syncing to the sharp, pulsing beat. The air carries a sweet, psychic tension—something between a fashion show and a ritual.

― Out here, there’s no place to hide.

*She glides her fingers along the edge of the mirror, letting sparks of colored light dance across her skin.

― Every step you take… every breath… it’s part of the story you’re telling.

Her gaze locks onto yours, no hesitation, no mercy—just challenge.

― So tell me, Tulip murmurs, raising her chin as the bass slams into the room.

Will you make it to the high fashion?

The runway lights blaze white. This won't be a simple fight against a Psychic-type specialist. It's her world -- and if you play your strategy like a model under the spotlight, it could be yours too.

― Show me.