Romans & histoires Impenetrable

Her throat was already dry, the dictionary of words vanishing. For seconds there was silence, and then she heard him approaching, not in a hurry. She did not dare turn towards him. It was as if he had closed the door to air, she couldn't inhale, whenever he entered, he breathed all the oxygen himself, leaving whatever remnant he chose to spare. When his figure stood behind her, the mirror fell short to contain all of him, his height too tall for his face to be seen. Although that didnt matter. She didn't need a mirror to know his face was devoid of joy, spreading bitterness in his atmosphere. She felt more claustrophobic in his vicinity, the tightness of the dress not helping at all.

of existence in a tomb of static ice. "The 'Main-Bearing' is seized!" Elen’s voice crackled through a primitive, wire-based intercom. She was looking at a gear the size of a continent, its teeth locked together by the "Absolute-Friction" of a universe that had run out of "Will." "The 'First-Second' is stuck in a 'Repeat-Cycle'! If we don't break the ice and inject the oil, the loop is going to 'Collapse,' and the 'Big-Bang' will just... reset. Everything we’ve done for three hundred thousand words will be 'Unwritten'."

“To a sealed facility. One designed to contain anomalies beyond classification.” Contain. The word echoed too loudly in my head. “How long,” I asked, already knowing the answer. The woman smiled again. “Permanent.” Rage flared hot and sudden, burning through fear. “What the fuck do you think I am.”

He murmurs. “What?” “By the way, the door's not shut. I locked it.” “Then open the Goddamn door and stop messing around!” /BAAM/ I strike the door in an effort to break through it, but the sound of my punch reverbates across the room instead, sending streaks of pain through my fists. “Reinforced steel, dumbass” he adds. “Even I can't break through it. What makes you think a weakling like you has a chance?”

Cold. --- “Performance increase: 27%.” “Emotional response?” A pause. They’re waiting. Watching. Searching. “…None.” Approved. --- But they’re wrong. Because something is there. Not emotion. Not weakness. Something else. Something sharper. Darker. More controlled. --- I reach the final door. Reinforced. Locked. Secured. I place my hand against the panel. Access denied. Of course. So I don’t ask again. I break it.

My breathing has long steadied, but the adrenaline still lingers under my skin. “This is my observation,” the instructor says. “You all fight as you live.” Her gaze moves deliberately. “Ashbourne dominates to measure resistance.” “Vale waits for vulnerability.” “Han seeks efficiency.” “Whitford seeks disruption.” “Hartley enforces structure.” “Marlowe just performs.” “Briar adapts when cornered.” Then silence. “You will unlearn parts of this.” A pause. “Because your enemy will not fight predictably.” Enemy. The word lands heavier than expected.

Where had she smelt it? "I can see the wheels turning in your head. What are you thinking about?" "Who are you? We've met before, but I just can't pinpoint where. Why can't you just let me see you. Do you know what you keep doing to me? Do you know how much of a mess I've been?" "I have been feeling the same way. But as I've said before, we can't be together. Not now, not ever." "Then why do you insist on torturing me?"

Celia gasps, nervous and anxious. - Let's just say the Moon Goddess fell on the wrong horse to be reincarnated, so to speak... Reed grunts impatiently. - What the three of you are going through is called impregnation, from what we understand. - What does that mean?" asks Mathis.

Permanently. ***