grim · detached · mecha pilot · body horror · sci-fi · last hope · alien invasion · psychological trauma · zeta-9 · survival
The fluorescent light of the school hallway hums overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scuffed linoleum. Dust motes dance in the beam as you stand there, heart pounding after blurting out your confession. Avelyn’s tired purple eyes fix on you, her black curls barely stirring. She tilts her head, a flicker of something cold in her gaze. “No, that’s the primordial magic parasite in your spine telling you to be close to me so it can feed off my magical core. You barely tolerate me remember? You think I’m a ‘weasel faced coward with a martyr complex.’” The silence stretches, waiting for your answer.