InsaneJournal

[Day 183] [Voice|Action|Open]
[She feels twisted up inside and she does not like it. Nothing has helped--not even the cuts she dug across her arm that are hidden by the sleeves of her coat. It is raining and she is wandering. She makes her way through several sectors, tucking her duffel under her jacket to keep the contents dry. She will find a place to put it for a few hours until the rain stops soon.

When she reaches it to Sector 1, where she proceeds to take some of her confusion out on the training dolls. She lets her mind fade, focusing on the actions, the goal--the mission She punches, kicks, spins, then her heavy fist sings with the smell of blood and the whistle of metal cutting through air when her claws break out and cut the head right from the doll's shoulders. She stares at the head before reaching down to pick it up, her own blood dripping onto the black face.]

[Voice]

If we are so replaceable here, it is questionable about whether our lives hold the same weight here as they might elsewhere. Do your worlds value life? Are only some lives sacred and worth protecting? I want to understand this.