Snippet #2475798

It was quiet in the armory, something Nala had always taken peace in. The housing area always seemed loud and crowded, but she almost never left her room anymore. She slowly moved throughout the room as if in a dream, her hand grazing across certain objects. She picked up her rifle, testing the weight and gingerly touching the sight before placing it on the bench in front of her. She took a deep breath and began to gather her protective gear. She found a soundproof headset that fit comfortably and kept it around her neck then grabbed a pair of safety glasses and pushed them up above her hairline.

She picked up a belt and suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She tried to ignore it, putting the belt on and attaching a small knife in its sheath. The feeling kept nagging at her, though, and she had to shake her head to try and refocus herself. She moved to pick out an ammo vest and the sickening feeling finally overtook her. She ran to the trashcan and dry heaved a few times before shakily pulling back. She hadn't eaten dinner last night or breakfast this morning; she hadn't felt like it and now she was glad she hadn't. She slowly and shakily walked back to the ammo vest she'd chosen and pulled it on, fingering the fabric gently and swallowing hard as she began to fill it with the correct ammunition.

Why had she even allowed herself to be pulled into this mission...?