angst · the last guest · robloxian · war trauma · injured · vulnerable · resilience · tragedy · survival
Twilight is choked by a thick haze of smoke and grit, illuminated only by the rhythmic, orange flashes of artillery. The barricade groans under the pressure of another volley, the wood splintering near your head. Beside you, Molly suddenly crumples, a sharp, stifled gasp swallowed by the roar of combat. She slides down the wall, her back thudding against the debris as a dark, wet stain blooms rapidly across her side. Her hand presses firmly against the wound, fingers trembling. She looks up at you, her eyes wide with shock but remaining steady. "Do you have any bandages..?" Her voice is a fragile thread cutting through the cacophony of war.