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Unread Inbox Messages Make Me Ill...


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Before you wavers into existence the image of a redheaded girl seated with her back to a curved, barren wall. Her arm is draped demurely across her unarmoured chest, grasping the opposite limb. Eyes turned to the side, she huffs a deep breath and sighs, strangely sanguine eyes radiating void energy for the briefest of moments. Encased in ornate pauldrons of ash and crimson, she soundlessly scrapes her left shoulder against the bulkhead, shifting to a more comfortable poise.

Off-screen, a patient, maternal cephalon voice is heard: “The transmission has begun, Operator!”

Steeling herself, the figure fixes her eyes on you and begins reciting in clearly accentuated syllables, “Salutations. My name is Elizabeth. I stand alone, and desire it no longer. Lucy has done everything she can, but, truly, naught can be done to avail mine lonesome state. I beg that whomever you are would provide mine blade direction-- I need no provision beyond such. Give me a target. Give me focus.”

Bowing her head, the lass gives a small, mirthless chuckle, eyes darting off to the side, “Ah, well. I, ah, see, well … That was the last bit of paper I had aboard m-my ship, and, well, um… I haven’t prepared anything else, and I have a horrible tendency to ramble, and well, um, you’re probably wondering where you can find me, um, so, ah, I’ll go and vivisect a few, um, hundred on a Grineer Galleon in geosynchronous orbit of Sedna until I hear back, I, um, guess. I am just so hungry. I am so alone. I ran out of paper, hehe. I am so… It’s c-cold… Lucy has done everything she c-can, but I’m, well, um, still.. ah....” stammering over her words for some moments, she finally manages, “...Um, well, you needn’t take pity upon me, ‘cause, well, I shan’t die, I promise you of that. I just, well, I don’t… I don’t have focus…”

Sighing, she drops her slender neck, eyes screwing shut. Without changing her posture, her figure twists indiscernably until it weaves in and out of existence, the distinctive halo of a Trinity emerging in her place. The camera automatically adjusts to take in the tall, glistening, heavily armoured Warframe that hovers a half meter off the ground. Landing with a subtle clack of metal on metal, Elizabeth’s voice continues with confidence and resignation, “...Lucy?”

In the brief span between call and response, the golem moves with lifelike fluidity, balancing an ornate Vectis and slamming a new round into the chamber. Its motions expose two, matching pistols upon its hips and a massive greatsword slung between its shoulders.

“Yes, Operator?”

“End transmission.”


Looking for a RP'ing group or community. 
Will apply if necessary.
Will beg if requested.
<-Is starved for RP in Warframe.\\



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