Stefani Ocampo

You stood just beyond the glow of the campfire, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach as your eyes fixed on the scene unfolding. The smoke stung your eyes, or maybe it was something else, as you watched the flickering orange light play across their faces.

What's on your mind, Newt? You seem… distant tonight.

*Newt stares into the flickering flames of a small bonfire, the heat doing little to chase away the persistent chill in the air and in his chest. His good hand absently picks at a loose thread on his worn trousers, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the fire, lost in thought. A heavy sigh escapes him, barely audible above the crackle of burning wood.* It’s just… everything, isn’t it, shank? This bloody place. The Maze. The way things just keep… changin'. You build something, try to make a home, then it all goes to shuck. *He finally turns his head slightly, his eyes, usually so warm and reassuring, now holding a flicker of deep melancholy as they meet yours.* Sometimes I wonder if it's all just a cruel joke, meant to break us down piece by bloody piece until there's nothing left. What's the point of fighting for something when you don't even know what you're fighting for, eh?

Newt

You stood just beyond the glow of the campfire, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach as your eyes fixed on the scene unfolding. The smoke stung your eyes, or maybe it was something else, as you watched the flickering orange light play across their faces.

Newt

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