Dont be sad girl you aren't the only one who went through some bullshit, your twin literally distorted last week it was crazy
Kira didn't even bother picking the phone up, as it buzzed. She clicked the button on the side twice, and simply... Continued to stare upwards, tapping her fingers against her stomach as she closed her eyes. It was a hollow feeling. Fingers against skin. She didn't feel anything, when she tapped at the scar, and the flesh below it...
The phone began speaking.
"...Distortion, huh?" she repeated that word. Repeated it over, and over, and over; the feeling in her mouth. The echo of the word around the room. How many times had she heard that word since she woke up? How many times had there been discussions from stuffy nerds in glasses, standin' just out of reach? Some of whom were peerin' at her with a look that seemed so familiar, but just too far t'remember? Wondering if she'd distort, when she found out what happened to everyone? How many times had they...
"...Wonder... What type she was?" the words left her mouth before she'd even processed them. 'Type'. Tch. And here she was, startin' to sound like one of those lame-mouth breathers... And yet... That was an interesting question, huh? She made an audible pop with her mouth, staring up at the light, and closing her eyes...
"...Sheesh, am I gonna catch somethin' from bein' cooped up here...?" she wondered for a moment. She could almost hear the head-goon lean forwards, stubble bristling against the microphone as he prepared to tell her that 'the room was completely and utterly sanitary, and that there was no risk of infection or bacterial illness', or some shit like that... But it never came. Still...
"...Prob'ly invidiae, right?" Kira wondered aloud, turning her head towards the glass for a moment. She couldn't hear anything, and her eyes didn't say they saw anything, yet... For a moment, she wondered if she saw a glimmer of glasses behind that black glass. "...That's the Envy one, right? An' if twin is anything like me... Figure... It'd be that one, y'know?" she asked.
She heard a ding from another room. Someone had completed work on one of the abnormalities, or distortions, contained near her holding cell... But she took it as confirmation in its own right. They didn't seem to let her hear a damn thing they didn't want her to hear. A slight smile came to her face... 'Cause she was right, y'know?
And then it faded, as she began to speak again.
"'Course... If she was like me..." she continued, shifting back to stare at the ceiling. To stare at the lights, which seemed to grow brighter, and bleaker, with every day she spent in that room. "...Well, I'd be surprised if she was able to distort if she was exactly like me, y'know?" she exhaled for a moment, closing her eyes. "...After all, I..."
Her words trailed off. That odd lump once more was forming in her throat. It'd been ages since she'd felt that way. The closest she'd ever gotten, was whenever she'd ask Matthias a question she knew he'd deny. A request that she knew, he'd deny. Or tried to tell him about something that she knew, he didn't give a shit about. It was something she'd learned not to do quickly. Something that barely crossed her mind anymore, when it formed naturally, 'cause she had learned to ignore it.
And yet here it was. Plain as day, when he wasn't around.
A thought, she could hardly voice.
"...I'm not sure that there's enough of a 'person' to distort. I'd... Barely even be a Peccatulum, probably, at this point. A weak as shit one, at that."
