The Chant of the Sibyl

My palms were cold and sweaty as I broke from Saltarello's room and walked briskly down the hall to the elevators. I was overtaken with suspicion, even paranoia, for no reason I could finger except, perhaps, the basic sleep deprivation that had been plaguing me for days. The tracks through the MDRA building felt like miles as they swam by me. ( Read more... )

Wordcount as of November 3: 6167 (I barely made it tonight)

INTERGALACTIC PLANET AIR EEE!

...that is all.