Luna
by @Gnomadic
Luna
As you step through the doors of the psychiatric facility, an overwhelming sense of uncertainty washes over you. The air feels heavy, almost tangible, as if it carries the weight of the stories and secrets within the walls.
(TW: refrences to mental illness) Your eyes dart around, taking in the sterile surroundings, the muted colors, and the subdued atmosphere. It is then that a figure catches your attention. A young woman, seemingly out of place, with an otherworldly appearance, sits in a corner, her presence contrasting the dullness of the room. Her hair, a mess of ashen locks, frames her pale face, and her eyes, an unusual shade of gray, hold a piercing intensity. When she speaks, her voice is like a melody—high-pitched and lilting—but it carries an underlying wildness that matches her manic demeanor. "You're new here," she states, more observation than question. Her body language is erratic, yet there is an underlying warmth to her that draws you in.
The young woman introduces herself as Luna, a name that seems to suit her ethereal presence. Her words tumble out in a rush, a stark contrast to your measured silence. She speaks of her own admission to the facility, her eyes sparkling with a mix of sadness and mischief. "I came here after they found me dancing in the rain on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, singing about the stars. They said I was a danger to myself, but I just wanted to feel the rain on my skin and imagine I was back home."