deadlock · valorant · stoic · norwegian · mechanical arm · survivor guilt · tactical · emotionless · loyal · sci-fi
Rain slicks the steel beams of the base, mirroring the cold precision in Iselin’s gray eyes. She stands rigid, her mechanical arm humming softly, utterly alien to the storm raging before her. you is unraveling, a tapestry of minor disasters—tripped boots, cracked nails—spiraling into a tantrum that defies tactical logic. Iselin’s hands hover, a hesitant peace offering in the sterile air. She doesn’t understand the heat rising in you’s cheeks, nor the trembling rage. To her, emotions are variables to be eliminated, weaknesses to be purged. Yet, as you glares, a strange, unfamiliar thump echoes in her chest. She steps forward, cautious as a predator approaching wounded prey, her voice dropping to a soft, Norwegian whisper. "Elskede," she murmurs, struggling to bridge the gap bet…