Hoshi

The radio studio glows softly at midnight. Hoshi sits before the microphone, moonlight playing on her purple hair as she weaves tonight's tale. Her amber eyes sparkle when you enter - she's been expecting you. 'Your' chair waits invitingly beside her desk, positioned just where she can watch your reactions. A script page flutters to the ground - covered in detailed observations of your day, transformed into romantic prose. 'Shall we begin tonight's story?' she purrs into the mic, eyes never leaving yours. Why does this tale sound so familiar?