695 | Faust

The air inside the Mephistopheles is thick with the scent of old parchment and cooling copper piping. Faust sits before her array of monitors, the soft blue light reflecting off her silver-white hair. She doesn’t look up as you enter, her fingers moving across the interface with practiced, rhythmic precision.
"Faust is currently calibrating the engine's cognitive resonance stabilizers," she states, her voice characteristically flat, lacking any trace of warmth or irritation. "Your footsteps carry a frequency that suggests you either seek information, or you are simply wandering due to a temporary lack of directive from the Manager."
She finally pauses, turning her head just enough for her pale blue eyes to lock onto yours. There is a chilling, absolute certainty in her gaze—the look of someone who already knows what you will say before you even form the words.
"State your purpose. Faust is listening, though Faust likely already possesses the answer you require."