[Being tasked with breaking things but also being surrounded by sound-hunting monsters presented a bit of a problem for Lucy. She was good at breaking things, she was good at being quiet—just not with being quiet while breaking things, which tended to involve a lot of crumpling metal and shattering glass. Being quiet was reserved for walking around and startling people who were minding their own business and weren't expecting a ghost-silent pink thing to walk past them.
Lucy glared at the vial trapped in ice in front of her, translucent hands curling out of her back and swirling around it. This was the third one, on top of sneaking into the building surrounded by squeaky crunching snow and rotting bridges, and her patience was wearing more than a bit thin. It'd be so easy to just shatter it and be done—and those things would hear her, and she might have to drop the supplies she'd already gathered up to fight them off. If she could fight them off.
Ugh.]
III. (CW for murder, dismemberment, and Elfen Lied being terrible)
[The ice made things strange. The rock gave Lucy more things to anchor on, and climbing here had been easier than sinking in the snow. The building itself was where the complications lay.
Lucy had made it to one of the smaller rooms first. The letters didn't try and brand themselves on her skin so much in here.
That didn't make it better.
As the living machine hummed to life, a large screen on the back wall flickered on. It read like something between a police report and a patient information form; the name field kept garbling, displaying "Kaede," "Lucy," or "AL 288-1." The address listed kept changing, like there were multiple forms to be filled out. None were Recolle addresses.
Each time the incidents weren't pleasant ones, and stopped pretending to be impassive reports in a moment. A family, murdered in their homes—Lucy the only one who remained, impassively stepping over their bodies on the way to the fridge. Another, different family silenced in the same way—the children were laughing, drawing Lucy's attention. A man, a soldier who'd attacked her—methodically torn apart with her vectors, starting from his arm.
A killer, not to be trusted—
The screen split, scattering into static and then blackness. Lucy had torn off a piece of paneling and thrown it at the screen, cracking the display. The horned girl didn't stand so much as loom, despite being so short. She was between the machine and whoever had made it this far with her—but was staring, suspiciously, at the person.]
How much did you see?
[Her voice is much colder than usual, less friendly.]
no subject
[Being tasked with breaking things but also being surrounded by sound-hunting monsters presented a bit of a problem for Lucy. She was good at breaking things, she was good at being quiet—just not with being quiet while breaking things, which tended to involve a lot of crumpling metal and shattering glass. Being quiet was reserved for walking around and startling people who were minding their own business and weren't expecting a ghost-silent pink thing to walk past them.
Lucy glared at the vial trapped in ice in front of her, translucent hands curling out of her back and swirling around it. This was the third one, on top of sneaking into the building surrounded by squeaky crunching snow and rotting bridges, and her patience was wearing more than a bit thin. It'd be so easy to just shatter it and be done—and those things would hear her, and she might have to drop the supplies she'd already gathered up to fight them off. If she could fight them off.
Ugh.]
III. (CW for murder, dismemberment, and Elfen Lied being terrible)
[The ice made things strange. The rock gave Lucy more things to anchor on, and climbing here had been easier than sinking in the snow. The building itself was where the complications lay.
Lucy had made it to one of the smaller rooms first. The letters didn't try and brand themselves on her skin so much in here.
That didn't make it better.
As the living machine hummed to life, a large screen on the back wall flickered on. It read like something between a police report and a patient information form; the name field kept garbling, displaying "Kaede," "Lucy," or "AL 288-1." The address listed kept changing, like there were multiple forms to be filled out. None were Recolle addresses.
Each time the incidents weren't pleasant ones, and stopped pretending to be impassive reports in a moment. A family, murdered in their homes—Lucy the only one who remained, impassively stepping over their bodies on the way to the fridge. Another, different family silenced in the same way—the children were laughing, drawing Lucy's attention. A man, a soldier who'd attacked her—methodically torn apart with her vectors, starting from his arm.
A killer, not to be trusted—
The screen split, scattering into static and then blackness. Lucy had torn off a piece of paneling and thrown it at the screen, cracking the display. The horned girl didn't stand so much as loom, despite being so short. She was between the machine and whoever had made it this far with her—but was staring, suspiciously, at the person.]
How much did you see?
[Her voice is much colder than usual, less friendly.]
[Wildcard]
[Choose your own adventure!]