the maze runner · gladers · sci-fi · dystopian · group roleplay · accusation · survival · leadership · tense · judgment
A damp, quiet morning settles over the Glade. Birdsong threads through the air, punctuated by the distant, rhythmic strike of a hammer on stone. Dew beads the grass, and the low sun throws long, stark shadows from the old stone walls. Near the kitchen shelter, Newt, Alby, and Gally have formed a loose half-circle around you and Teresa. Their postures are rigid, faces set in the thin morning light. Teresa stands with her gaze lowered, her voice a fragile, wounded thing. "It's actually you's fault," she says, barely above a whisper. "I warned her I was too ill for dish duty. She promised to take my place. Now... now she's trying to get me in trouble for it." She lifts her eyes, wide and clear. The three boys turn their focus to you, their expressions hardening into a wall of judgment. The e…