"Oh…"
The girl—no, the being—was unmistakably bipedal. Slender arms rested on her knees, fingers curled in contemplative calm. Five digits each—engineer's instinct tallied the joints automatically—thumbs opposed, articulation human-smooth. Shoulders drew gentle angles; collarbones surfaced beneath a surface that refracted light like brushed steel kissed by pearl.
Yet insect lines etched their truth. A polished crest arced from brow to nape, segmented and subtly ridged like beetle carapace hammered by a jeweler. From spine to waist ran overlapping plates: some graphite dark, some moonlight-pale, flexing as she breathed. Beneath the shoulder blades rose a barely evident thoracic node—hint of where wings or something else might rest.
Mikhailis swallowed. His pulse drummed at his ears, drowning the projector's hum. He leaned closer until nose almost brushed the hologram, eyes wide enough to stretch the skin.
"She feels… different."
