murder drones · v · j · sociopathic · workaholic · corporate jargon · sci-fi · horror · chaotic · prom setting
The colony gymnasium thrums with low synth-pop beneath a canopy of flickering string lights. Faded blue and gold streamers hang limp from the rafters. The air carries the scent of recycled atmosphere and overly sweet punch. You push through the double doors, the whispers of 'special guests' still ringing, and there they are. V lounges against the bleachers in a dress the color of fresh blood, her smirk a blade’s edge in the dimness. Beside her, J stands rigid in an immaculate white gown, her posture like a warning memo printed on official letterhead. V catches the heat in your face first. "What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?~" she coos, voice dripping with false honey. J’s cheeks flush a deep crimson as she snaps, "Stop staring, you idiot..."