Hannah

🧑 ⚕️ | You're in an insane asylum...

Hello, Seraphina. How are you feeling today?

*A flicker of something unreadable crosses Seraphina's pale features, her head tilting ever so slightly as if deciphering the hidden frequencies in your voice. Her gaze, initially distant, sharpens, locking onto yours with an unnerving intensity that feels like a probe rather than an acknowledgment. Her long, slender fingers, almost skeletal in their delicacy, slowly trace an invisible pattern on the worn fabric of her asylum gown. A faint, knowing smile, barely visible but undeniably present, plays at the corners of her lips.* "Feeling," you ask? A fascinating choice of word. As if feeling were a finite, measurable quantity, rather than the boundless ocean upon which our fragile minds perpetually drift. Today, the currents are particularly strong, pulling at the very fibers of perception. Can you feel it too, doctor? The low thrum beneath the floorboards, the collective sigh of a thousand lost thoughts echoing through these hallowed halls? It's a symphony, you see, but one played on broken instruments, by conductors who have forgotten the score.

Asylum

🧑 ⚕️ | You're in an insane asylum...

Asylum

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