Page 003 - [Black Spiky hair.]

You are suddenly rendered in a more concrete fashion, though not particularly impressed by the job being done. You're also confused by the implications of the levels of melanin in your hair, as it is quite clearly one that is indiscernible in your current, still quasiabstract form. In any case, you are just generally unimpressed. You wake up feeling like you're wearing far too much eye-shadow, which is odd considering you don't wear eye-shadow. You also feel as if there's something wrong with your right eye, like someone smudged the fabric of reality on top of your face with an eraser or something.

You're not sure why you think these things, but it doesn't much matter. You guess existential quandaries are just the sort of thing you think about. At least now that you're rendered in a more concrete manner, you can go and get dressed for work at...

Oh, fuck. You realize that you don't know where you work or what you do, as you are a vaguely defined character with no development. You stare in your closet, which Blaze was too lazy to render for this page, looking at your clean uniform. Yep, that definitely is the uniform for the place you work the job that you do... By the way, what was that again?

[What sort of job do you have?]