[h1][color=sienna]Ursula Elwyn[/color][/h1]
[@GingerBoi123]
[@Stairdweller]
[hr]
Downtrodden and worn out, Ursula's only thought now was on getting into that cold steel torture rack of a bed and waiting for the sweet release of sleep. She ambled away from Eli, lump rising within her throat as she distanced herself from the Nexus Projectors and the cafeteria. She nudged past some of the other Zoners, all looking as tired and beaten down as she was. Weakly, she spared a wave at those that she woke up with, Malcolm and Nora. She could talk with them a bit later, for now all she would be able to do is babble. They were occupied enough as it is, socializing with the others, Ursula would more than have her chance later if Eli's statement was to be believed. 

On the subject of her room, Ursula could recall only following the green line upon the floor. A green line which, when looked at in reverse, seemed like it would branch out to all the other rooms. A nudge of her palm adjusted her glasses, the cracked mosaic lenses now helping her to search for a sign or a map. Maybe they had some sort of directory around here. [color=sienna]"Big ol' government complex, and they can't even have some kind of information kiosk. Maybe some of those little fold-out map-pamphlets."[/color] Ursula let out a sighing laugh. Maybe she spoke a bit too loud, as the whirring of rotors dopplered over to stop behind her. A quick turn on her heel revealed the glowering faceplate of a service drone. Its visor flashed as it identified her uniform and lifted its head. Its faceplate betrayed no emotion as it spoke, [color=slateblue]"I am Service Drone #54, your robotic assistance unit within the complex."[/color]

Ursula flared her nostrils as she exhaled sharply. The damn bots can sneak now. Wonderful. She spoke in a stammer, [color=sienna]"Uh, hi... #54. I'm Ursula?"[/color] More a question than a statement, as if she were just as unsure as this android before her. She cautiously extended her hand in greeting, but the drone had a sudden interjection. [color=slateblue]"I heard a sound of distress. What seems to be the problem. Ursula."[/color] The tones and inflections were unnervingly artificial, unusually cheerful. Her name sounded like it was tacked on to the sentence like a tail to a paper donkey. She adjusted her glasses, pushing on the bridge of her nose. [color=sienna]"I uh... how do I get back to my room?"[/color]

The drone immediately turned and advanced down the cold, green-lined corridor. [color=slateblue]"Please follow me to your private quarters."[/color] It said, voice fading with the distance it was quickly covering. Ursula had to jump into a power-walk to keep up. It was a short trip, some stairs and more than a few corners before they reached the slightly familiar room. The drone stood next to the door as it scanned her and opened accordingly, beeping in the affirmative. [color=slateblue]"You have reached your destination."[/color] The drone chirped, before nodding and leaving in just as much a rush as it came. Ursula was left slightly out of breath and puzzled as she shuffled into her room, the door shutting tight behind her. Quick movements and flicks of her limbs got her uniform off quick enough, permeated with sweat as they were. She left them where they fell upon the floor, no time for folding and organizing when you're about to collapse. The cold steel torture rack parallel was true even now, as her bare skin touched both the steel beneath the minuscule mattress and the itchy sheets above her. She didn't even bother taking her glasses off as she slipped into a coma-like slumber.
[hr]