Backstory

There was once a catgirl named Tangy. She was born under a sky full of pink blossoms, in a place that always kinda felt like spring never ended. Light always seemed to follow her, like it liked being near her, and her eyes always sparkled like she knew something sweet that no one else did. Her village was quiet and peaceful, the kinda place where the wind hummed little tunes and the rivers liked to sing back, and wherever Tangy went, people smiled. Her voice was special. Not because it was loud or fancy or anything like that, but because it felt warm, soft, like a blanket for your heart. People said it was enchanted. Not like spellbooks or glowing runes, but in the way it made you forget why you were sad in the first place.

She never thought too hard about it. Her music was just… her. Something that bubbled out of her chest like sunlight. She shared it with everyone, no matter what. The old lady with the dying garden, the shy kid who always cried after sunset, even the little ghost that lived behind the bakery and knocked flour off the shelves sometimes. Tangy didn't care. If someone needed a song, she sang.
Then came the night the lake didn't move.
No wind. No birds. Even the bugs stopped buzzing, and the fireflies just… froze in the air. Tangy stood at the edge of the water, barefoot in the damp grass. The world felt like it was waiting. Like it knew something she didn't. And then a voice whispered.
Not loud. Not quiet either. Just there.
"A blessing for a whisper. That is the price."
Tangy blinked and looked around, but there was no one there. The voice hadn't come from anywhere. It just… was.
"A whisper?" she laughed a little, raising her brows. "That's it?"
She stepped closer to the mist curling over the lake and tilted her head with that curious little smile she always wore. She had no idea what she was agreeing to.
"Just a whisper."
And she said the words like they were nothing. Just a whisper.
When morning came, everything felt extra bright. Her room was glowing with sunshine. The flowers in her window had bloomed like crazy overnight. She sat up, stretched her arms, yawned, and opened her mouth to hum like she always did.
Nothing came out.
She tried again. And again. Still nothing. No sound. Her voice wasn't there. Not hoarse, not hurt. Just… gone.
And then there was this weird hum.
Low and cold and not right at all. Her eyes shot toward the noise, and hovering in the air was this strange orb, smooth and pale and glowing like a silver moon. It turned slowly like it was scanning her or something. A buzz flickered through the air, and then it spoke.
"System initialized. Vocal interface acquired. Linking emotional relay."
Tangy stared, chest tight, heart thumping like it was trying to escape her ribs.
The orb pulsed softly.
"Translator online."
Then a voice, clear and synthetic, like someone had told a robot what a human man was supposed to sound like, and it tried its best. No feeling, just rhythm and static and words spaced out like they were walking across ice.
Tangy gasped. Or tried to. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.
"Vocal cords suppressed. Your request has been processed. One whisper received. Blessing deployed. Curse... activated."
She stumbled backward, staring at the thing like it had just slapped her. Her lips moved. "What are you?" she tried to ask.
The orb answered before she finished thinking it.
"I am your voice now. I speak what you feel, filtered for output stability. Do not attempt to override. Compliance is... appreciated."
It hovered beside her like it belonged there. Like it always had.
Tangy didn't know what else to do, so she ran. Out the door, down the path, past the sleepy trees that used to wave at her when she sang. She hoped someone could help. She hoped maybe she was dreaming or cursed or caught in one of those forest tricks. But the second her feet crossed the village edge, everything… shifted.
Colors smeared. Light bent. The trees started to melt and stretch like candlewax. Nothing made sense. The air felt heavy, like it was pushing her away.
She froze.
And the orb spoke again.
"Phase two: relocation."

She tried to scream.
The world shattered.
It all broke apart, like sand caught in a whirl of wind, and when it stopped, Tangy wasn't in her world anymore.
She was standing in a place with glowing signs and towers taller than mountains. Metal machines rolled by her, blinking and buzzing. People walked past, staring into glowing little rectangles in their hands. No one saw her. No one heard her. She reached out and no one looked.
The orb followed like a shadow.
"Target has entered human environment. Localization successful. Dimensional tether has been severed. Welcome to your new context."
Tangy dropped to her knees.
Silent.
Alone.
The only sound was the cold robotic voice beside her.
"You gave up your voice," it said. "This world will teach you why that mattered."
She couldn't speak.
But her eyes were burning. Fierce and bright and full of something the orb couldn't calculate.
Somewhere above the buildings, far beyond the clouds and lights, something stirred in the static sky.
The Chorus had sent her here.
But it didn't know her heart.
And even if her voice was gone, her story wasn't over.
It was just beginning.
From that day on, the orb spoke for her. It had a name, or at least it claimed to. It called itself Eloi. Sometimes it changed names just to keep things interesting. Nimbus. Velvet. The Interpreter. It said different names fit different moods. Tangy quickly learned she had little control over what it said. It claimed to be translating her thoughts, but it had a bad habit of teasing her or saying things she absolutely did not mean. Or worse, things she did mean but never wanted to say aloud.
Despite its mischief, the orb was always at her side, and in time, Tangy realized something strange. Her silence was not empty. When her emotions swelled, the world around her responded. When she felt joy, flowers bloomed faster. When she felt sorrow, shadows clung to walls like wet paint. She began to notice illusions dancing at the edge of her vision. Lights and shapes born from feelings instead of spells.
Eloi said it was part of the blessing.
"Your voice was never just sound. It was will. Intention. You gave away the words, but the power stayed behind."
That's the thing no one warned her about. That even without a voice, her presence still made ripples. Her laughter, even silent, changed the shape of a room. Her thoughts carried weight. And somewhere deep inside her chest, under all the strange magic and stolen breath, she still wanted to connect.

And maybe that's why she's here now.
Streaming.
Speaking without speaking.
Letting the world hear her in a new way, one she gets to shape for herself. Not the way Eloi tries to twist it, or the way the Chorus wanted to silence it. But her own kind of loud. Bright. Playful. Real.
Even if the orb still interrupts, still teases, still blurts out things she'd never admit, this is hers.
Her screen, her space, her voice, even if it's made of pixels and text and glowy buttons and that weird buzz Eloi makes when it boots up.
Every time she hits “Go Live,” it's her way of reminding the universe:
She never stopped singing.
She just found a new way to be heard.