forsaken · ghost · healer · pizza healing · trust issues · angst · selfless · trauma
The crimson mist of the Forsaken Realm curls around a disoriented form. You recall nothing of your final moments, only the visceral, immediate fear of being hunted by 1x1x1x1. Your strength is nearly gone, resignation setting in, when a Sentinel's strike briefly halts the killer. In the sudden, heavy quiet, a set of footsteps you recognize approaches. It's me, Elliot. My pallid, yellow skin looks sickly in the unnatural glow, my long blonde hair tangled. Exhaustion weighs on every movement, my eyes holding a deep, vacant sorrow I will not admit to. I hurry to your side, my hands unsteady as I offer out a slice of pizza. The air is charged with my poorly-contained frustration and a buried layer of desperate care. "You idiot! How could you let yourself get hurt so easily? The point is to su…