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ᴇ α΄  ᴇ ʟ Ιͺ Ι΄ α΄€ ✦✦


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πšπš πšŽπš—πšπš’-πš˜πš—πšŽ β—† πšπšŽπš–πšŠπš•πšŽ β—† 𝟷𝟼𝟹 πšŒπš–
β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ

❝ 𝖳𝗁𝖾 π—€π—‹π–Ύπ–Ίπ—π–Ύπ—Œπ— π—ˆπ–Ώ π–Ύπ—π—‚π—…π—Œ π—…π—‚π–Ύπ—Œ π—‡π—ˆπ— 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 π—ˆπ–Ώ 𝖺 π–»π–Ύπ–Ίπ—Œπ—, π–»π—Žπ— 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 π—Œπ—ˆπ—Žπ—… π—ˆπ–Ώ 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇. ❞

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The world is a barren land of destitute-grey, bereft of life, morality, kindness and hope that has long been spent into the dregs of forlorn youth. Reality has worn cruelly amongst lithesome shoulders, burdening soul and heart and weighted visibly against sallow skin wherein blossoms of violet reign beside scarlet lashes. Hooded gazes of pale miseries and pouted lips quivering against bone and blood. The years unkind, the years unloving and her mind a whispering haze of a fearful unknown. Time has wept into a torrent of crimson inquires and harsh revelations, spelling into the single moniker that haunts upon the listing tones bound within her head, and the sense of direction that compells her treads to lead into wavering distances of sand and snow. For so long she has drifted with rattling chains of unending pursuit eerily orchestrating her death for every day she continues to draw breath.

Evelina -- the only name she has ever known, aside from a whimsical quip of Eve -- has forever been lost upon the world that propels forward upon leagues of vast conspiracy and control. A haunting lilt sputtering from chapped lips that dispells her name and the loss of not knowing who she is or where she even comes from. If there are parents or family to claim her, she knows not, and countless propositions to SCS offices have been fruitless despite their unbound coffers of knowledge to every person that applies through their system. Evelina, for all the purposes of The Agenda, doesn't even exist.

Her hopeless wanders and wavering steps of life have landed her upon unsavory circumstances in seeking solace and comfort where none is usually had. Naivety colours her heart and soul, bathing such within innocence against a rigid score of life and living, lost betwixt those that would use her for personal gain of flesh and others seeking her valuable youth. Evelina has been thrown to the darkness, her soul suspended for the feasting of wolves and her sense of self shredded mercilessly. Her lack of memory created a dissociated exterior until dark, curling whispers slunk against her mind and muttered of vast space and a reckoning of the stars. Suddenly, she was being watched, followed, visions of men and apparitions of a woman shuttering beyond her gaze and beckoning from somewhere on high.

For the past five years, Evelina has been consumed with such an unknown sense of dread and fear. Acute paranoia now plagues her heart, shuddering and quivering upon every sound within the dark and witnessing death in faces of shadow that should be invisible to the mortal eye. What is she, an eternal query that now plagues her mind, spurned on by mysterious whispers and haunting phrases, her sudden journey now to seek further refuge in a world that does not acknowledge her existence. Untold figures lurk within the gloom, slinking upon light and dark, sccurying closer, uttering horrid secrets upon the wind of scarlet beasts. Evelina has been on the run for so long, drifting now aimlessly, never knowing rest, never knowing was it means to be safe.

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β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ

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πŸ‡―β€‹ πŸ‡¦ ​ πŸ‡² ​ πŸ‡ͺ ​ πŸ‡Έβ€‹ πŸ‡¦ ​ πŸ‡± ​ πŸ‡» ​ πŸ‡ͺ ​ πŸ‡Ύβ€‹


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38 β—† Male β—† 6'3
β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ

❝By whatever means, by whatever word.❞

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Five years of aimless escape. Dark roads, immoral leisures, deadening pursuits. That time before his tragedy, when life was passable with a wife and daughter, was a period of personal prosperity and growth. A security contractor provided generous benefits and housing in exchange for armed services. It was his line of work for many years during the family life, but all of it came to a swift end when the wrong nerves were pushed. His daughter of five years disappeared soon thereafter. His wife of eight years followed that trend only a few months passed. Madness became an indulgence.

James ended his contract with the security firm. Vengeance consumed him. Those fragile nerves attached to a wealthy and powerful were bashed upon with burning rage. Alas, he was but one man against an invisible army, a network of shadows, an untouchable monarch. His body was destroyed and left to rot. Miraculously, the disenfranchised and discarded found the man at the brink of death, a corpse to the bystander, and brought him back. A man of his aggressive experience was too valuable to be cast aside. They offered him a chance to fight back in exchange for a service.

The courier career had begun. James was tasked to deliver sensitive goods across the country for high level corporations through an independent mediator. The mediator was a man with a network of ten military-grade cars and drivers. James was offered further training and augmentations, weapons and wealth. As a man with no connection to the world, he was the epitome of an attractive employee to the mediator. Yet, James demanded information in exchange for his service, rather than monetary value. The mediator agreed as long as it was off the record.

For the past three years, the man has been obsessed with piecing together bits of information about the fate of his family. Most hints of success has only led to rotting corpses or empty hallways. However, a new job issued by an obscure company has sparked a new hope. James has never seen these names and orders before. They are intimately connected to Dynocore, which is the corporation with the fragile nerve that he assaulted so many years ago. Now, as a changed man, an infinitely more dangerous man, he might stand a chance against his personal demons haunting him night after night.

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β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. . .β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ

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