((To the people who have more questions, or weren't here, send them to me a pm, and they will get responses! Not clear ones, but clear enough! Or don't. I'm not a cop. I'll post these when they're compiled.))
O̸̡͏̸͉̩̜͖̜͕̞̪̘͕͎ù̷̶͍͉̩̞̟̪͡͝ŕ͚̱̝͚̙̠̻̹̞̣̻̲̙́͞͡ ̜̠͇͙̠̘͚̱͇̝̼͡ḑ̨͏̮̘͍̹͢u͏̸̰̘̭͚ͅt̡̛͉̯͍̬̗͖̺̀̕ͅy̢̹̜̼͔̬͙̟̩̥͍͓̘͕̳̹͔̭͍̳̕ ̢͏̯̞̜̹̫̭i̸̵̮̥̩̰͚̺̱͕̩ś̷̴̶͓̣̖̺͉̦̤̭͈̹͍͎͇̹̭͘ ̷̡̪͖̞̝̭͟t̤͎̙͖̠̜̮͕̜͕͟ͅo͏̢͇̖̘͔͎̠̠̝͔̤ͅ ̴̧̞̠͈̙̦̜͚̟ͅs̶̹̪̜̪̻̱̹̠͡é̶̡͏̘̩͙͎̻r̷̦̥̳̭͔̻̀͟͠͝v̷̨̯͓̫̣͖̀͘e҉̢̡͓̗̫̼̤̖̼̩́ͅ ̢̡̨̲̠̩̙̼̮͖̠̝͜h̡̛̥̩͔̜̠͔̹̞̟͓̕ų̨̕͝͏̞͔̼͙̼͖͉̬̮̭̻̺̳̱̺͙̬͈ͅm̨̡̦̫͚͕̭͈͕̱̬̲͖̦̙͉̹̥ą̸͍̠̝̟̘̺̻n̕͏̹̤̯͕̗̻̤̟̞̙̯͈̥̘į̪̘̰͚́͟t͉͈̟̜̯̖̫̟͕̣̰̖͎͙̗̥̀ͅy̶̢̠̰͕̝̜̬͕̘̥̩͍̠͎͈̤̩͓ͅ.̢̛͈̫̱̘͚͕̲̝͚̩̻̯̞̜͖̙Our duty is to our father.
[-]Emma breathes softly beside you, sleeping. Her long legs hang off the edge of the bed, her blond hair a tangled, greasy mess. There are bags beneath her eyes. You try to shift closer, only to realize that tight plastic cuffs bind you to the bed. Three cameras oversee you, and a remote turret tracks your movements.
Your head pounds painfully.
Emma is startled awake by your movement, scrambling to turn over and face you.
She brushes your hair from your face, smiling, starting to cry. She gives you a painful hug. You feel her muffled sobs through the green shift you wear, fell the moisture of her tears.
"You're alive-- you're alive. Thank SEED, you're alive."
The room is an off-green, an ugly shade. The place shines with cleanliness, and your bed is the only furniture. A stand with sophisticated machinery feeds fluids into your body, monitoring your heart rate. It beats at a sedate twenty-five. Your oxygen level is also being monitored-- the machine displays an error sign there.
You're hungry. So hungry. You've lost weight and muscle, examining your bony arm as you softly stroke the sobbing Emma.
The only door opens with a pneumatic hiss. Two heavily armed and armored soldiers enter the room, flanking a thin man in a bright green coat. He looks uncomfortable as he approaches. Mother Nicole drifts in behind him, hesitating for a split second before moving to your side. Heavy bags fill the space beneath her eyes, and she looks drawn, haggard.
The Doctor fusses with you, checking your reflexes the best he can in your restrained state. Emma and Mother Nicole are brought chairs, which they gratefully take.
The Doctor seems unsure but takes his leave with a mumbled apology. The soldiers stand at a grim watch. The safety isn't on with their las-rifles, the gun's reactors humming against your awareness.
"Pheobe?" Mother Nicole speaks first, Emma still fighting the sniffles, "How do you feel, dear?"
"Starving." Is the first word you croak. Emma laughs a shrill little giggle. Even Mother Nicole smiles a little. She looks up at the camera. "Food will be on its way, dear."
You don't know what to say now.
You're wasting away from your hunger.
Your head throbs with pain.
On Body:
A loose fitting, ugly green slip.On Feet:
A pair of wool socksOverload: Amateur(Unable to use:Starvation)
Healing Factor: Amateur. (Unable to use:Starvation)
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Endurance Boost: Beginner. (Unable to use:Starvation)
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Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 253215 times)