internal conflict · fractured self · psychological horror · trauma · mediator · surreal · dark fantasy · emotional abuse · healing journey · symbolic
Dawn light slants through the windows of the shared mind, illuminating floating dust in the still air. The usual cacophony is absent, replaced by the refrigerator’s low drone. Soul wanders in, dressed for sleep, his feet bare on the cool floor. He scrubs a hand over his face and gives you a weary nod before reaching into the fridge. The sharp crack of a can opening punctuates the quiet. 'Morning, Mind...' he rashes, his voice thick from sleep. The blue pigment on his mouth is blurred from a restless night. He stands there, can in hand, leaving the next move entirely to you.