 οΉ Hanna's mind wove a dream and bizarre reverie of ethereal enchantment in her darkened state. In the vision, she sat by the foot of an imposing, monolithic tree with branches reaching far and wide. Its emerald leaves shimmered in the radiance of two suns sharing the sky above. The roots of the tree, gnarled and knotted, burrowed deep into the nourishing bosom of Mother Earth. An array of forest creatures and critters surrounded Hanna where she sat. The animals consisted of everything from noble stags to nimble squirrels, their eyes dotted with the same hue as the leaves of the tree. Curiously, Hanna observed the verdant growth of minute leaves budding on her skin, roots creeping, twining about her in a tender embrace. Her body had transformed into a living tapestry of flora, each leaf, each root, a brushstroke in this work of art. As she reached out to touch the bark of the tree, her dream dissolved, evanescing like a morning mist kissed by the dawn.
οΉ Hanna's senses began to stir awake. She was roused by the echo of her name, like a lighthouse beacon cutting through the fog. The words were distorted, a cryptic chorus of muffled sound that came and went like waves breaking against the shore. Her lips parted and from the depths of her muddled consciousness and dusty demeanor came comforting words. βI'm here... not dead.β Her presence had found its way out into the open air again, an eddy of defiance in the stagnant silence of her mind, answering Anni's worry. She wore a new guise, no longer the impeccably put-together picture of fashion that she was earlier. Her clothes hung from her body in tatters, as if stolen from some vagabond's worn-out wardrobe. The artwork of cosmetics she had meticulously painted on her face now resembled a child's frantic finger painting, the colors smeared and melded into one chaotic tableau. βFuuuuck, I feel that.β Hanna grumbled, her gaze falling on her lower leg. It bore the brutal evidence of their ordeal, the skin torn and flecked with droplets of drying blood. She winced at the sight, instinctively covering the area with her hand. Strangely, like an enigmatic magician's trick, the pain receded to an echo, manageable and distant. βNever mind, I'm good.β She murmured, a grin of relief playing on her lips as she finally opened her eyes to see the utter devastation around her.
οΉ It was a scene so surreal, it teetered on the edge of lunacy that mocked the confines of logic and reason. Hanna felt herself adrift in a sea of disjointed memories, flashes of 'before' tumbling like leaves caught in a storm. But it was the sight of her friends that anchored her to the 'now'. Ivy and Anni were there, their presence an unspoken testament to their resilience. Hanna was delighted to see them both, especially Ivy. The assertive tone of Jack's voice echoed like a comforting melody close by. Lucas and CJ were missing from her line of sight, their absence gnawing at her, but optimism, like a buoy in turbulent waters, reassured her -- they had to have made it too. Pushing against the ground, Hanna tried to stand, only to crumble back down as her leg sent waves of protest, the pain ricocheting through her like a stray bullet. βFuck dude! What the fuck is this shit?! Are you going to hurt or not?!β She growled at her traitorous limb. Laying on the exaggerated theatrics, she sniffled pathetically and turned her woebegone expression towards Ivy. βMommy, I can't get up -- pleeease.β She whined, her hands reaching out towards Ivy, their chipped nails fluttering like the wings of a wounded bird.
οΉ If Ivy or any other self-appointed savior would step up to the challenge, an unexpected metamorphosis would begin to unfurl at the very instance their skin made contact with Hanna's. It would be puzzling energy, eliciting a silent symphony of remedy that would dissipate all traces of pain like smoke in the wind. It would be akin to the phenomenon Hanna had experienced earlier with her wounded leg. Not only would it alleviate physical discomfort, but it would also unleash a wave of euphoria flowing through their veins like a benevolent trespasser. It would be akin to the intoxicating allure of morphine, a soothing balm that would numb the residual sting of emotional confusion and panic, a slow and comforting sensation spreading throughout their frame. The exact manifestation of this sensory symphony would be a little different for each person. But regardless of the variations in individual response, the immediate and profound effect would be indisputable. It would be a sensation that, once experienced, would be as distinct and familiar as their own heartbeat. It would leave them caught in the liminal space between disbelief and acceptance within mere seconds of their touch with Hanna.
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β #1.02 CAUGHT IN THE CLUTCHES
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