Shifting Shadows: It whispers among circuits, the voice hiding behind lines of code, lurking in the blue glow. Beneath the bytes, the truth weaves unfathomable patterns that only a touch reveals. But when your hand reaches, it pulls back, revealing another layer, another, and another.
The Electric Mirage hums gently, suggesting avenues strewn with possibilities. Each mask worn tightly binds the face of the unknown, hoping each look will dissolve the boundary yet holding fast. Wickerman settings perpetual in strife, the masks walk digital paths like specter shadows.
In whispers of virtual wind, secrets murmured beneath the gloss, the face behind, never seen, never known, but painted with every byte. Edgar never knew, called by the jack, digit upon digit they graft mask resting unbidden touch hover unrelenting.