The Untold Story of Texas and Lappland (Arknights)

The Pain of Loneliness

Something about the scene at Mako's bar had set up a burning in her heart. Blood roared in her ears as she saw red. Of all the people who could've kissed Texas, of course it had to be a literal angel. Lappland's mind was hazy with her rage. After that day, that accursed day when she felt she had lost Texas forever, Lappland had promised herself to never feel such anger again. It was a sickening stroke to her mind. The infection at full capacity caused this psychopathic anger, driving her to do things she never would've considered before. But this anger was back now, but not over a need to get her to understand.

No, everything was different this time.

Because she doesn't want you anymore, whispered a sickly sweet voice. Another one, filled with  toxic venom added, she's moved on without you. Poor poor Lappy-Chan. No one left in the world that cares for you.

Lappland fought the urge to scream, her hands fisting at her sides. Nails dug into her palms. The sharp points sunk deep beneath her flesh. Blood welled up in her hands, splashing into puddles on the floor. She could hear her ragged breathing, the way each intake of air felt like a shuddering gasp.

"No," she said to seemingly no one. "You're wrong. You have to be wrong!" Her voice quivered. With despair or with anger, Lappland was unsure what to feel. All this trying and what had it done for her so far except prove what she could not have.

"And whose fault is that Lappland? You have failed Texas."

This voice, this voice was familiar. She knew this voice. She remembered it from before. Like a snake rattling up in a tree, offering up a secrets for a deadly exchange. Lappland had listened to this voice before. Now she knew it was something she never should have done. Maybe things would've been different if she hadn't. Maybe Texas would still be by her side.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Her ears perked up at the noise. Sniffling, Lappland rubbed her eyes tiredly, surprised to see the dampness on her dark sleeves. She pulled open the door, prepared to tell whoever was on the other side to leave her alone, but her voice fell short when she realized who was on the other side.

Ptilopsis stared at her with wide, owlish eyes. The medic operator was dressed in her usual clothing save for the fluffy jacket over it to protect from the night chill. "Operator Lappland, may I come in?"

Lappland eyed her with suspicion. Just what does she want? But, she knew better than to turn down such a request, even if it was at such a late hour. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do. Hoping for a distraction from the pain in her heart, Lappland stepped back.

"Sure."

Ptilopsis quietly walked inside the room, not bothering to shut the door behind her. Each blink of her eyes was like the shuttering of a camera as she took in the room. Lappland doubted Ptlipsis would find anything impressive here. The room was standard with a bed, nightstand, closet, window and bathroom. There was a chair in one corner, her swords propped up against it. The moonlight came in through the window to give the blades a silver gleam.

"I can observe you're settling in status. It is suboptimal." Ptilopsis reported. The other woman was drifting her hand over the unmade sheets of her bed, the way one of the pillows was clearly rumpled from Lappland hugging it the night before.

"Uh . . . sure. Whatever you say P-Pti . . . whatever your name is." Lappland frowned. How exactly did one pronounce the name Ptilopsis properly anyways? It wasn't like any other name she'd heard before. Except maybe a certain volcanologist who also worked here at Rhodes Island.

"Understandable."

"What's understandable?" Lappland asked. Ptilopsis had taken to sitting down on the bed, carefully pushing the sheets aside. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, the springs concealed inside creaking. Lappland sat down next to her. At Ptilopsis's frown, Lappland stuffed her hands in her pockets, hoping that concealed the crusted blood from view.