alone.
@neotaeoh / the afterlife, system failure, phase 3.
when the communications crash down, it feels more serious. like the world is crumbling out from beneath their feet. a pixelated wipe of memory that leaves the world blank and drowned in a black expanse of nothing. the mods come after, but jinsol doesn’t notice that so much. his only tell is on the back of his neck, hidden from view. a sun that refuses to rise. how fitting.
all he’s focusing on is the anxiety in his stomach. slithering and lashing out like serpents. intent on forcing their way up his throat. blocking off air. leaving him gasping, in the throes of panic. he doesn’t do well like this, being severed from the world. being thrust into the unknown. rua doesn’t either. it’s what pushing him to her apartment. the electronics down, keypads non-functioning. but he managed his way far enough alone to pound at her door. was greeted by silence. and back again, into the heart of the city. into the afterlife, searching for hope. or her. at this point, they seem nearly interchangeable.
he doesn’t find her. though this is when he starts to notice that more is falling apart, the seams holding everyone together coming apart. a distinct lack of the neon mods elysium has become known for. fritzing mechanics. and as he pushes through more people on his hunt, he finds someone. just not the one he’d been after. but they make him pause. he might’ve moved on, if not for that look of panic, the way he was clutching tight to his arm in a deadened way jinsol doesn’t think he’s ever seen. “are you okay?” it’s a rush of words, and jinsol’s not sure if he’s entirely coherent. but he fits a hand to his wrist. can feel the unsteady thud of his pulse, an erratic scatter under his thumb. “down?” jinsol makes an educated stab at it.
