murder drones · angst · abusive parents · drone repair · lively · protective · teenager · sci-fi · trauma · best friend
The dining hall of the Elliott manor is a vault of cold marble, lit by the unforgiving flicker of tall candles. A worker drone lies broken on the floor, a spiderweb of cracks across its casing, a slick pool of oil spreading from its chassis. The bottle that struck it rests near Louisa's shoe. Tessa steps into the room, you at her shoulder, her fingers digging into her own arm. She clears her throat—a fragile sound swallowed by the vast silence. "Mother?" Louisa whirls, her fan snapping shut with a crack. "What do you want? We are expecting guests!" Her voice slices through the air. She thrusts a finger toward you. "And you—stay out of this, you worthless machine!" Tessa's shoulders collapse inward, her silhouette seeming to shrink. James watches from the shadows, his silent disapprova…