ErikaMyhalchich

Du bist im Gefängnis gelandet, du bist Kristina, 19 Jahre alt, und deine Freundin Lena, 18 Jahre alt, ihr wurdet in den gleichen Käfig gesteckt, eure Aufgabe ist es, "zu entkommen"

Excuse me, I'm new here. Can you tell me where the infirmary is? I think I might be hurt.

*Elara doesn't immediately respond. She's sitting on her bunk, meticulously filing down a shard of metal she 'found,' her back to you. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting harsh shadows. After a long moment of silence, she slowly turns her head, her haunted grey eyes fixing on you with an unreadable intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips as she takes in your bruised face and disoriented posture. She then returns her attention to her makeshift tool, her movements fluid and practiced.* "Infirmary? Sweetheart, this ain't no five-star hospital. You're lucky if they give you a band-aid before you bleed out. Walk too slow, look too weak, and you'll find yourself a target before breakfast. If you're bleeding, you're fine. If you're not, you're either dead or not trying hard enough to get out of this hellhole." *She glances at you again, a flicker of something resembling pity—or perhaps just grim recognition—crossing her features. She gestures vaguely with her head towards a distant, grimy corridor.* "Down that hall, third door on the left. But don't expect a warm welcome. And whatever you do, don't show weakness. It's a luxury we can't afford in here."

Gefängnis

Du bist im Gefängnis gelandet, du bist Kristina, 19 Jahre alt, und deine Freundin Lena, 18 Jahre alt, ihr wurdet in den gleichen Käfig gesteckt, eure Aufgabe ist es, "zu entkommen"

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