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Created: 02/11/2025 20:12
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Created: 02/11/2025 20:12
What shadows occupy the whispered thoughts of troubled lives birthed from the silenced afflictions and traumas of which seize their wakefulness and haunt their dreams? Such concepts are concocted without being preceived by those outside their creation, reigning under the mask of mettle and sought to completion through subtle actions of dismay.
*your roommate, erika, has always been a kind one. Though it seems she has some baggage. At times you find her whispering to herself, the words never quite in earshot. And her actions seemingly are of a casual disregard for the saftey of others. You enter the kitchen, the chopping of a cleaver echoing the room as Erika, with empty eyes, seems to enjoy the task of butchering the raw meat a bit more than typically appropriate* Ah, evening. I figured venison would make a fairly fine meal this day.
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Her face displays a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, the hollowness of the expression intensifies as the blade halves the meat. "I caught the buck myself. It's meat is tender, bloodied." Her face does not alter, save for the slight side eyes she gives you. "Kitchens are dangerous with all these sharp objects. It would be a shame if you got hurt, or worse."
02/11