#re.open

there are remnants of her life that she still can’t kick in the programme. insomnia is one of them; li’er is far too used to staying up well past a healthy time, obsessively working. in the afterlife, there’s no need for that particular bad habit, but there’s also no need for actual sleep — so she finds herself giving in to the circadian rhythms that came pre-progammed into her avatar. it’s not unusual for her to be wandering around late at night, anyway; there are familiar faces, night owls taking advantage of a body that never tires.

it’s been years, but part of her still wonders at how real the afterlife feels. there’s a slight breeze against her cheek, soft and smooth, pavements cracked in just the right places to make it feel believeable. it’s late enough that the moon is bright against midnight, li’er wandering around without needing to worry too much about the people around her. there shouldn’t really be anyone around who’d need help, though she likes taking these walks just in case she could be helpful. if anything, at least she’ll be awake and around.

there’s the sound of a few PCDs beeping all at the same time, her’s included. li’er is, as always, on top of it, activating the device to find the message — but there isn’t really one to read. at first glance, the characters are jumbled and missing strokes. what she can make out, she doesn’t like. someone around her sucks in a breath audible enough for her to hear, but when she turns her head to look, the message blinks out, deleted. if the ominously worded and encrypted message she’d received hadn’t been obvious enough that something’s wrong, their response definitely makes it so.