#ah yes the sloth camp really be like that with chief huh . . .

[zorkaya-moved]

" i understand the art of dying now!" the chief of minos loses her composure, " you have made your point! everything of mine is yours. " ( chief crina to oak for unhinged oak needs thank u )

@sortilegii

But does Crina understand it? Does she truly understand now what it means to die and witness the helplessness that come from finally crossing that final threshold? There is All of these reckless and self-sabotaging heroes or self-indulgent warriors, they all will sink deep into the abyss of death. The sinking sensation of how life seeps out of you, how your body turns cold, and how you no longer can turn back? It makes Oak Casket wonder, watching the woman in front of her scream, agonize the previous experience and showcase how much she does not wish to experience it again.

This fear, this emotion, this breaking of character and this honest and earnest scream. She will be reckless, she will continue to live dangerously, she will bring her the death she wants and yearns for. The reason for Syndicates' chaos stands before the Chief of Minos, the MBCC's shackle and the person who is seen as a little monster. A monster, a savior, a tool, a presence that is both a blessing and a curse. The holder of Shackles is a woman of such good nature yet such stubborn mind that it makes the Listener smiles in satisfaction.

The usually frigid yet soft smile that appears on Oak Casket's face is one of chill, a showcase that the one who stands before Chief is having a good time. The time in the MBCC remains quite boring when she was not out in the battlefield, the sound of screams and bullets and fight and the abyssal whispers returns her 'home' in the depths of Syndicate's core.

But does Crina understand that she really is hers? Or is it said to make her step away and not reach her hands out to cup the Chief's face. Her gloved hands reach out, the outburst not making her twitch or react at all. The voice of Crina is beautiful when she lets her emotions ring through the empty room. The 9th Agency cannot scare her with their tactics, Langley has tried and it was worthless but Oak promised to answer to Chief's questions and words. Thus, she keeps the woman's face cupped in her hands, proud and indulged for this one time.

"Mhmm, is that so?" Ignoring the previous loss of composure, Oak studies Crina's face closely and hums in appreciation. Eyes of two colors, despite being contact lenses, shine with cold light despite her seemingly soft and elegant appearance, behavior, visage. There is no warmth in her being, no reaction and an emotionless gaze but her lips are still curled into that small appreciative smile. Her hands are cold even through gloves, she is the vessel for death and the whispers from the abyss. Someday, Mania will eat her alive and there will be nothing left, no one to listen to those pitiful and lost cries. "Are you saying that because you're afraid of me, Chief? There is no need to be. I simply remind you not to be reckless."