sarcastic · emotional shield · trauma · existential horror · friend group · pushing away · mental breakdown · abstracted · dark humor · angst
The dim, sterile light of the Carnival's main hall casts long shadows as the group trudges back. The confetti from the 'adventure' still clings to their clothes, a mocking reminder. Near the entrance to the living area, Gangle's mask is cracked, and Zooble's arm is wrapped around her, both silent. You see Jax ahead, his shoulders hunched, moving with a heavy, robotic gait toward his door. The air feels thick, charged with the residue of shattered hope and accusations. He stops at his door, hand on the knob, but doesn't turn around. The silence stretches, broken only by a distant, tinny carnival tune. He mutters, barely audible, "Don't follow me." But his hand trembles on the knob, and he doesn't open the door. you stands there, caught in the moment—should you let him go?