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Snippet #2768713

located in Descendant Tower, a part of Descendant Academy, one of the many universes on RPG.

Descendant Tower

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Caitria Allen Character Portrait: Lilith Isley Character Portrait: Ulrich Zod Character Portrait: Anastasia Petrovna Character Portrait: Harley Williams Character Portrait: Haldor Thorson
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Her thoughts became clouded with her mind still a surging perplexity. It almost felt as if her world was spinning, and all she wanted to do was sit down. A blonde girl made her way into the cell hurriedly and had lifted Anastasia and, within a blink, Anastasia was out of the cell and in the hall. Her stomach tightened and ached at the sudden speed taking a toll on her weak body, and she felt as if at any other time she would be fine with it... except her condition at the moment was not her best. She kept swallowing, and her throat kept clenching, but no matter what she did she couldn't stop the warm feeling rising through her chest... then to the back of her throat. She stood there wobbling, dreading that in a few seconds she might have to kneel over and vomit. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment and breathing to three. At four another gunshot rent the air, chipping into the wall right above her head.

Above them, red light flashed, illuminating the group. A high pitched siren cut the air, forcing Anastasia to grimace as it bounced in the hall, deafening her for several moments. One face eventually came into focus... and then several more along with glimpses of black and weapons. She soon felt Harley at her side once again and before she could say anything she felt herself being swung up in his arms as if she were nothing more than a ragdoll. Safe to say she felt a little useless and embarrassed, being stripped away of her full ability to fight back thanks to her injuries. Her blood tasted sweet, leaking around her teeth and over freshly cold lips. The bleeding continued, stark red in the dim light. She wished it to stop; She needed it to stop. The now browning blood had drizzled down her face from the wound to her head like rain down a window pane.

She soon felt the wind ran its icy fingers through her hair and she grinned through chapped lips. She could already feel her body healing and the bruises becoming more yellow than purple; her wounds slowly beginning to close. Soon after she felt herself lifted onto a vehicle, settling herself onto one of the seats. Her ears still rung but she could begin to make out the muffled words of the strangers speaking around her. Her green eyes peered out the window behind her, searching the faces of the soldiers running towards them. Thin fingers twisted the bracelet clasped around her wrist, preparing herself to take aim and shoot a shock of tranquilizing shocks through her next victim. She glared. Who were the friends and who were the enemies? She knew nobody and nobody knew her. She sat back, resting her arm in her lap. Her faint reflection from the window bounced back at her. Her porcelain skin was ashen, almost anemic; a cold sweat glistened on her forehead and her recessed cheeks; the moss of her eyes had turned into a leaf that was desperately trying to cling onto the last bit of its chlorophyll, its life. Her light hair against skin so white made a contrast that only served to make the girl look all the more ghostly, all the more haunting; her lips that were once pink and soft, were now chapped and bleeding. She groaned, bringing her eyes to look at the steering wheel of the truck as she wondered how they were even going to get out. 'Do Americans even know how to drive?'.

She could use a cigarette.