Selina can only stare for a moment, looking at the other her in a stunned silence as memories tried to rush to her mind. Her body shook with the effort of holding back her grief, not sure how to handle this yet; Or even if she could at all. However, she wouldn't lose herself to her emotions. Stiffly, she took two steps forward to the cot before crouching down next to her, looking at her.
"Y-yeah... its me again... I don't know... know much of what happened to you after... a-after you left but... I'm s-safe here now, and I hope you will be too. I... I want to help you. Help you move, speak, act... give you a life too." Selina's voice caught as she said this, wondering how much she could actually help.
"I... I don't know wh-what they told you but... I want us to get along... maybe even be like sisters. D-do you understand?" Selina looks at the clone, pity, grief, and hope all mixed in turmoil in her eyes. She didn't know what to do consciously, but this felt right.
The corners of her mouth curl up a smidgen and her eyes look a little bit brighter. She's drooling a little. You're not sure she quite understood what you said or is merely fascinated by the way your mouth is moving and sounds are coming out. You look at each other for a moment.
She laughs. It's an infant's laugh, this much you understand.
Bored, Alex would quickly pull out his phone to check for any updates Kibbel might have on explodey guy
Kibbel doesn't seem to be picking up, presumably on account of it being the middle of the night right now. Guy needs his beauty sleep, clearly.
Suspicious-looking? That reminds Steven of Steven.
Time to follow and follow he does.
You follow the truck, eager to investigate its suspicious activity. Fortunately, it really is cruising just about as slowly as the truck possibly can without just stalling randomly. The truck's a bit old, doesn't seem to be in the best of conditions. You follow it for long enough to discover that it seems to be haphazardly traveling between the city blocks, as if looking for something.
What's more, just as you discover this, the door of the truck opens. A man leans out, looking up at the sky, then up and down the street, finally settling his eyes on you. Physically he's just about the archetypical thug with a shaved head, brutish look and the eyes of someone who spends a sizeable portion of his living on industrial-grade ethanol, though he's decked out in the ratty and unwashed flannel of a stereotypical trucker.
"Hey, you!" he shouts from afar, waving his arms at you. "You seen a fucking depot here anywhere?"
His voice, while aggressive, sounds more frustrated than anything.
Author
Topic: Worm: Edwardstown (Read 135894 times)