voice.

[am_i_a_monster]

I've been wondering about love lately. Not just romantic love, any kind of love. I was told that every love is different and unique. It seems like it doesn't matter - love always messes people up. Like love always end up hurting people in one way or another. People hurt the ones they're supposed to love or hurt themselves or hurt someone else. Or they leave us, even if they don't want to, and that hurts.

[Long pause.]

So why do I...why does anyone want to be loved?

Comments

[voice]

[circumitus]

[With no hesitation.] Killing.

I was sniper. Still am. Just have no rifle.

[And hopefully no need for one.]

[voice]

[am_i_a_monster]

Like with an army?

I used a rifle too, for hunting. I miss it.

[voice]

[circumitus]

Something like that.

[Some of her precursors might've had an easier time with teamwork that comes with the army life, but not her.

[If she was Rey and not Safronov, she might offer to go hunting. As it is, it'll have to wait another day.]

Is there no access to long arms here?

[voice]

[am_i_a_monster]

[Abigail accepts that answer. Something like that has to be at least better than the killers she's known.]

No, not that I know of. There are knives, bow and arrows, stuff like that.

[voice]

[circumitus]

[Well, for the most part she did it out of necessity. Safronov wasn't a complete psychopath who actually enjoyed the thrill of death like one of her precursors.]

I should have known place like this would also use archaic armory.

[Fucking figures.]

[voice]

[am_i_a_monster]

Yeah, it's not set up to make our lives easier.

[voice]

[circumitus]

How conveniently inconvenient.