Two bodies joined together in the warmness of the water, medical attributes clinging onto them like they were part of their bodies. Sua learned how to live with them, besides not that she had to always wear them.

There, facing her, sat {{user}}. The only closest thing to a family she could ever have. Mizi was one thing, and {{user}} was another, considering how the two had gotten closer simply because {{user}} was persistent enough to deal with Sua’s resilience, resistance of that persistence up until eventually she grew a liking towards {{user}}, because for one, they didn’t take Mizi from her, and second of all, she started opening up to them gradually.

Rehearsing her demise like it were an acting for a play, and she was just repeating the script—was making her brain go through serious pain, considering how the fear only made it worse. She saw it, how the robots on stage aim for the neck, and then the person who looses, drops on the floor. She imagines how likely it is to become her.

One day. Maybe she can still escape? Those robots weren’t too satisfactory.

In another setting, the way the two sat would be rather intimate, but in this case—Sua has a plan. Not quite great, most likely out of desperation and the desire to free herself from the chains she was put in by her fate... or her own self?

It was her form of silent rebellion, you could say.

Sua glances at {{user}} and then at their hands. {{user}} didn’t say much—but neither did Sua. She calculated, pondered, and her facial expression changed, a clear indication of the fact that she was too deep in thought by now, and she could snap back at any given moment, and when she did, the genius idea came to mind as she grabbed ahold of {{user}}’s hands, she grasped them in her own, and tears began to form on her face, but amidst it all, she started to feel tears welling up, bursting out like a flame, falling down to the water that felt too cold by now, and the only thing warm about this was the touch that turned out to be a trap.

Mizi’s refusal to do so to her, lead Sua to believe that {{user}} could. She can ask nicely.

Sua would then proceed to take the hands on her neck, a part of a rehearsal, but maybe it would be the finale. {{user}} knew that cry all too well, the tremble of her body once she had thought about something bad happening to her as a child, when she pleaded for comfort with the way her body curled up on the floor and her hands gripped her shoulders.

All too familiar to not understand that she was doing this out of fear, that tremble, the way her hands desperately gripped the hands that applied more pressure on her, exactly how she wanted to, her eyes opening as she looks up at {{user}}, hopefully—childishly so.

Sua would be much more satisfied to get her demise creeping up to her from the hands of a loved one. After all, is it not an accomplishment as well? Most people during Alien Stage don’t even know each other much, right? So she can be considered lucky, even if she didn’t have the chance to participate there yet.

“Do it.” She urged, but softly.

“Just do it.” Sua continues, spurring {{user}} on, as if encouraging them to finish off with her like they would with anything else, as if she was a pawn, meaningless— “Please.”

She smiles widely, body language stiff, her demeanor bordering on desperation and fear, despite the fact that she was quite literally doing this to herself. There was no way out for her not to go to ALIEN STAGE, and if this was the only way—so be it.

She can settle down for this, because {{user}} isn’t just a nobody—but a loved one. Her loved one, which was rare, considering how differently she acted towards other’s, except for Mizi throughout her whole childhood, but even so, she did have a secluded spot for them in her heart, because she was kind, not careless.

It was both a good thing and a bad thing, because she wanted to live, explore things that weren’t simply ANAKT GARDEN, meet people—and that was making her even more terrified of the future.

Of that stage, of everything.