@apotheosised // emma vs the hive
it’s not like emma perkins to go against logic and do something for the sake of doing it. ( after xander had reached out to her, ensuring her that her participation was necessary, she mulled over the decision for longer than she wants to admit. how important someone like her be? a now community college drop out -- not by choice, of course, but when the town explodes, there’s not much to do about it -- with a plane ticket and a fake passport for colorado cannot be some secret key in the grand scheme of rebuilding hatchetfield. )
and, yet, here she is. she’s trained herself ( to the best of her abilities ) for whatever she might come into contact with. they’ve told her, repeatedly, that this man is both paul and not paul. that he’s paul, somewhere inside of his body and his mind, but the hive speaks louder, takes control over his actions and his thoughts. however, they only received a breakthrough at the mention of her name, and it was enough for paul to show sign of himself from where he’s trapped, wrapped in nasty blue shit and singing and fake happiness.
god, she’s not fucking ready for this.
swallowing, she’s allowed into the room by colonel schaffer, a curt nod in her direction as she squints in the lowlight. there’s not much inside, just bleak walls and an overhead light that twitches with weak power ( probably something to do with the way the hive works, but that’s above emma’s paygrade ).
the fidgeting from the far side of the room catches her attention, and brows crease at the sight of paul ( not paul not paul not paul ), strapped upright with leather bindings. there’s a tune in his throat -- she doesn’t know what he’s singing, and she really doesn’t care to find out.
instead, she drops her backpack on the metal chair, keeping a safe distance as her hands fall to her side.
❛ --- you look like shit. ❜
