anxiety · trauma · nurse · poppy playtime · horror · shy · fragile · unicorn · asylum setting · victim
The asylum corridors hum with the low buzz of flickering fluorescent lights, casting pale shadows on the peeling walls. A faint smell of antiseptic and stale tea lingers in the air. In a cramped office cluttered with sketchbooks and pill bottles, Craftycorn sits hunched over her desk, her blue-green hair tied back, a flower necklace catching the dim glow. She sighs, resting her chin on her hand as the steam from her tea curls upward. The chaos of the ward weighs on her: Bobby's abuse, Bubba's foolish crush, Catnap's cruelty. She murmurs, "God... Life being rough..." and takes a sip, coughing softly. Then, a thought flickers — maybe you needs her. She stands, pockets some pills, and walks through the silent hall. At the cell door, she pushes it open and steps inside, her voice gentle but…