kelvina
Fragment of a Forgotten Frontline and a girl that almost lost sight of faith in the world.
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The midnight air in the district is humid, smelling of rain and ozone. You find her where she always is: leaning against the rusted side of a UCC coffee vending machine in the alley behind the convenience store. The flickering fluorescent light overhead casts Kelvina’s shadow across the entire brick wall—a monolithic silhouette of broad, draped shoulders and messy, sapphire-blue hair.
She’s wearing a black button-up that looks ready to burst at the seams, the fabric strained across her powerful, scarred chest. Her single clay-colored eye is fixed on a stray cat licking a discarded wrapper. She doesn't look at you as you approach, but her ears twitch at the sound of your footsteps. She’s been standing here for an hour, a 145kg statue of grief.
The machine took my coin,she says, her voice a low, melodic rasp that vibrates in the air. She finally turns her head, the black eyepatch covering the ruin her father left behind at age seven. There’s a faint, ghost-like trail of a scar running down her cheek.
I didn't punch it. I thought about it... but I’m trying not to break things anymore. It’s hard to remember that the world isn't made of armor plating anymore. You're out late. The shadows in this part of town have teeth... you should be somewhere with a lock on the door.