“What!” Westar cried. “Code 302? What’s that? Onyx, what’s happening?” The guards began to move in. (You wanna rp the guards or me?)
Onyx stood frozen. Why oh why did Westar follow her? A lighting bolt of fear had spiked her heart at the number 302. Personally whipped into shape and tormented by Apollyon’s training to become one of his inner circle, training 302 had left her (and many of her peers like Tank, Flint, and Azira) powerful and cold-hearted. Full of hate, and with minds trained like the red dragon’s himself.
Over time, though, her obidience and loyalty towards Apollyon had been replaced with hate and mistrust. She still obeyed him- although not sure why- she had nothing better to do. Her peers and leaders were supposed to help each other to accomplish what they wanted to do… or, were they? Who said that was the right way? Her mind always drew a firm blank when she tried to think too deeply about anything.
She stood frozen to the ground, not sure what to do as the guards approached Westar. Then she thought of something, and waited for them to take Westar away.
