Member
Expendable
Nani
PrinceAlexus
IAmTheIsland
Carlyle
The Savant
PURRfect93
Festive
Nallore
HosA
A sat rigidly in her chair, her fingers delicately brushing against the frigid, glossy surface of the oval table before her. The steel walls of the briefing room emanated a clinical, impersonal ambiance that sharply contrasted with the flickering ember of hope igniting within her chest. This sensation was alien to her, leaving her confounded on how to navigate its complexities.
Her thoughts meandered aimlessly, uninvited, to the dark entity that had haunted her the previous night. In hindsight, its utterances resonated within her like a foreboding pronouncement—one she neither desired nor fully comprehended yet found herself unable to entirely dismiss. What disturbed her most, however, was not so much the dark figure itself but the pervasive sense of inescapability that accompanied its presence.
Resistance, procrastination, succumbing to indifference—none of these things bore any significance. Such was the essence of its chilling message.
To the shadow, hope appeared as a delusive endeavour, an exercise in futility.
As Doctor Willfreed articulated her reflections, A's gaze shifted to the striking blonde woman, attentively noting the discreet yet repetitive glances exchanged between her and VV. The doctor’s demeanour emanated an unmistakable hesitance as though she were maneuvering along a precarious tightrope, delicately balanced between the realms of professionalism and a profound sense of remorse. When the phrase "cleared of their suspicions" reached A’s ears, she experienced a constriction in her throat, her heart thundering an erratic rhythm against the confines of her ribcage. This revelation was undeniably fortuitous—surpassing her most optimistic expectations—but instead of igniting feelings of relief, an inexplicable weight settled heavily in her stomach.
Cleared. Unshackled.
A once again found herself grappling with her sentiments, unsure of whether she could embrace this fledgling sense of optimism. It ought to have been a fountain of solace, yet all she could perceive were the unspoken reservations echoing relentlessly in her mind. Her fingers instinctively clenched into a loose fist upon the table, her nails carving pale crescents into the tender flesh of her palm. Gradually, however, the tension that enveloped her began to dissipate as VV’s familiar silhouette crystallized beside her, providing a semblance of comfort.
“Looks like everything's going to be ok,” A remarked softly to her before looking down at her lap, once more lost in her thoughts.
...
What the hell was that thing?
Her thoughts meandered aimlessly, uninvited, to the dark entity that had haunted her the previous night. In hindsight, its utterances resonated within her like a foreboding pronouncement—one she neither desired nor fully comprehended yet found herself unable to entirely dismiss. What disturbed her most, however, was not so much the dark figure itself but the pervasive sense of inescapability that accompanied its presence.
Resistance, procrastination, succumbing to indifference—none of these things bore any significance. Such was the essence of its chilling message.
To the shadow, hope appeared as a delusive endeavour, an exercise in futility.
she was losing her mind wasn’t she?
As Doctor Willfreed articulated her reflections, A's gaze shifted to the striking blonde woman, attentively noting the discreet yet repetitive glances exchanged between her and VV. The doctor’s demeanour emanated an unmistakable hesitance as though she were maneuvering along a precarious tightrope, delicately balanced between the realms of professionalism and a profound sense of remorse. When the phrase "cleared of their suspicions" reached A’s ears, she experienced a constriction in her throat, her heart thundering an erratic rhythm against the confines of her ribcage. This revelation was undeniably fortuitous—surpassing her most optimistic expectations—but instead of igniting feelings of relief, an inexplicable weight settled heavily in her stomach.
Cleared. Unshackled.
A once again found herself grappling with her sentiments, unsure of whether she could embrace this fledgling sense of optimism. It ought to have been a fountain of solace, yet all she could perceive were the unspoken reservations echoing relentlessly in her mind. Her fingers instinctively clenched into a loose fist upon the table, her nails carving pale crescents into the tender flesh of her palm. Gradually, however, the tension that enveloped her began to dissipate as VV’s familiar silhouette crystallized beside her, providing a semblance of comfort.
“Looks like everything's going to be ok,” A remarked softly to her before looking down at her lap, once more lost in her thoughts.
...
What the hell was that thing?
and who the fuck was she kidding?
