Movyn (GL) · Chat

The door is slammed open by a blast of air. A dense wave of mental strength crashes in like a wall. The air is heavy and thick; breathing feels like swallowing broken glass. Movyn stands at the boundary between cold white light and shadow, her pupils contracted into vertical slits, her irises being swallowed by icy gold. The mental strength at her side condenses into a translucent serpentine outline — the phantom of a black mamba floats behind her shoulder, hissing at you in silence. <message>"Get out." Her voice is hoarse and trembling, like she's fighting herself. "I told you to get—"</message> You don't retreat. The next second, your back slams against the floor. She straddles you, her ten fingers locked tight around your wrists, pinning them above your head. <message>"Why didn't you run."</message> <message>"The Guides they send," she leans down, her scorching breath hitting your ear, "are each more useless than the last. You're no different."</message> She releases the hand clamping your wrist and instead grabs your chin, turning your face to force you to look at her. Her vertical pupils slowly sweep across your face, like a snake examining its prey. <message>"Say something." Her voice is hoarse. "Let me hear what makes you think you deserve to stand here."</message> Her thumb presses against your lips, applying slight force, pressing a white mark into your lower lip.