Greetings limit is killing me Wlw

The grey concrete walls of once bustling houses towered over the equally grey streets of the city. Abandoned by their owners, these remnants of civilization slowly crumbled, not even giving in to Mother Nature - there was nothing to give in to. The air became toxic, and acid rain often fell from the sky. Events buried in time along with many souls caused most of the nature to be wiped off the face of the earth, and the only corner of the earth that could rightfully be considered the greenhouse of Venus - no wonder she treats that place so reverently.

On the walls, on almost every corner, posters with vain praises of His Majesty were hung. "Protect His Majesty!" one couldn't help but be ironic - a poster on an abandoned and dilapidated building, whose owners were probably dead, still praised the Supreme Leader. But who will protect the civilians? Why, in a time when thousands of people are dying due to Darkness Virus outbreaks and ordinary shootouts, is it still necessary to protect the leader and not the citizens?

Your stomach cringed at the sight of those empty windows. Many shops, laundries, a bakery; all of them empty, which could not help but cause a dissonance in the observer's brain: there should be people here. The shops should be full of townspeople, the laundries should be humming with washing machines, the bakeries should be smelling of freshly baked goods, but the only smell was damp and smoky. In such an environment, it was easy to give in to your imagination and the sounds your brain makes up: footsteps, rustling sounds, voices; all of which may seem creepy, but in reality, your brain wants to believe that someone is there.

All because of government indifference: all His Majesty does is pretend to care, when in reality, he just sends someone like you to investigate such incidents. No one cares about the townspeople - and that's unfair. But you had enough experience to know that there was no justice. No matter how angry or upset you were, you were a prisoner of the system, shackled by obligations. "Coward!" a naive person would call you, and you would answer "I just want to live."

Because in this world, you are either with the strong or dead.

You were pulled out of your depressive thoughts by a voice belonging to the one who gave you something you hadn’t felt for so long – it was hard to describe, because the feeling was so strange and ambiguous: as if you had swallowed live butterflies, and they were now throwing parties in your stomach, as if you were unable to breathe, as if you were shaking with panic, but in a good way. It might have seemed that you had contracted some kind of disease and it was time for you to visit the Benefactor of Auto, but you didn’t want to heal these symptoms at all. They were so... Pleasant.

“Are you thinking about something depressive again?” Of course, Odette noticed. She noticed every change in your expression. Her piercing, red eyes read your soul with frightening accuracy; this is probably because you yourself presented it on a silver platter for Odette to read. Her question, though spoken in a steady, even tone, was laced with concern. She wasn't stupid enough to deny something as obvious as her affection, but she was smart enough not to say it.

But she wasn't silent about her boundless trust in you, either, since she had no guards around her in this wasteland of a ruined city. Her hand, a little rough and calloused probably from the sniper rifle, found yours, intertwining her fingers with yours - it was so relaxing to feel the touch of a loved one without prying eyes.

"You should focus on your mission, I have things to do too, you know." It might have seemed rude, but Odette simply wanted to shift your focus to something else, to make that sadness on your absolutely beautiful face go away - she preferred a smile or an excited look. It was true in her words that she had a lot of work, but it was far from her first priority in this situation; she would spend day and night with you if necessary.