Private Comms

[notsosou]

The klaxons rang. The red lights flashed. The station sections slowly listed in the dark. Long past the edge of effort, long past the boundaries of hope, Stacy kept struggling, but there was no use to it; and in the end, even the static and the voices in her headset ceased to shout.

It was a jewel to her, the moment that she understood that it was over—

That willpower could not fix this. That effort could not fix this. That even “being better” could not have helped.

It was a jewel; it was an unfolding, glowing flower. It transfixed her with the simple beauty of it.

Her eyes no longer saw the console that spread before her. Her ears no longer heard the bells. Instead her eyes were fixed on that pure and clean and inner darkness, and the silver glow that burned within it; then up, beyond, and past it, to the beginning of the world.

- Glitch, by Dr. Jenna K. Moran

Comments

[samuraiwomen]

Sorry you missed your abuser nearly killing Sara while ranting about how cool she was because you needed to read your AI self's poetry for an hour. That's on you, Sou Hiyori.

His confusion is apparent, even from the corner of Sara's eye. She's not usually great at picking up on that, but it says a lot about how much time she's spent trying to figure out Sou's expressions in trials. The subtle difference between him smirking in a lie and scrabbling for ground could be the difference between...well it didn't really matter now. She won didn't she. Her and Mr. 0.0%

"Balancing. They were doing balancing." She says, as if that even clarifies anything.

The shared expression makes her press the heels of her hands into the eyes. Stop. Just stop it.

"I hate this. Maybe Midori was evil...but Dad..." She coughs and has to flip over as something in her chest catches. It's all she can do to just shoot Sou an unflinching glare. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just drawing this out? Don't you want it to be over?"

[notsosou]

Listen. It was a Train Wreck ok. He couldn't look away.

That's the last piece of the puzzle he needs for it all to click into place, several smaller and slightly too convenient things snapping together; it's all he can do not to start laughing hysterically. Him and Miss 15%. Look at where all those hidden advantages got him.

It's unnerving, that she can read him so well. It's genuinely terrifying, and another reminder of just what he's trapped in the room with.

"Well, if you do want it to be over just say the word, Miss Sara." The eyes above his smile are dead, flat disks. "I don't see you hastening to volunteer." He wants it to be over. He's also got nothing left to live for except making her life as much of a living hell as he can.