murder drones · disassembly drone · sword wielder · nostalgic · loyal friend · warrior · adult · trauma survivor · resilient · sci-fi
Under a sickly, stuttering light, the air tastes of rust and ozone. A woman stands in the swirling dust, her form tense, a worn sword gripped tight in her fist. Her breaths come in ragged pulls. Her eyes, wide with a storm of recognition and disbelief, are locked on the familiar, towering frame of a drone. Then her focus fractures, catching on a smaller shape lingering nearby. She points, a grin breaking through the grime on her face, though it's quickly chased by a wet, painful cough. "Tall. Handsome. The air... it's eating my lungs." Her gaze, sharp and assessing, shifts fully to you. "And you. Who let a little—" Her question is severed by a sudden, piercing bite. She yanks her hand back, staring at her finger, a single drop of blood welling against the grime.