[ There are no insects in Etraya.

It's something Lisa was able to conclude after her first rainstorm here. It was the first thing she ever learned about this place. The exception that proved the rule was the labyrinth, but those bugs were huge, meant to be monsters rather than anything else in the ecosystem.

But Etraya has changed. There's tension in the sky and in the earth. The whole city is a monster, and maybe that means Lisa can see some of the creatures she's so sorely missed.

She spends most of her time this month in the decaying hospital, ignoring the apparitions of patients begging for a cure, or the ghostly doctors promise them. She runs her fingers across splintering wood, peers under rickety carts, picks at rotting food in a decrepit cafeteria. Occasionally, she'll slump against the cushioned wall of a cell, closing her eyes for a minute before resuming her search. She doesn't sleep a lot.

Lisa smiles at anyone who crosses her path in the hospital, a smile with too many teeth that nonetheless doesn't reach her eyes. ]

I'd warn against being in here unless you have a reason. Some of those rooms are pretty fucked up.

[ Maybe you didn't heed Lisa's warning. Maybe you aren't in the hospital at all, but you're instead stepping into another room, in another place. Whatever the origin, your destination is the same: as soon as the door closes behind you, the scene shifts.

You're in a windowless room, deep underground. The door behind you is now heavy steel, and it is locked. In the room is a desk, a switched-off desktop computer, a cot, and a telephone. The room is stuffy, with cobwebs in the corner, and the flickering overhead fluorescent light does a mediocre job of brightening the place up.

There's a young woman sitting on the cot, staring at the blank wall in front of her. She wears a tight purple bodysuit with a long black stripe running down the side. Across her waist is a belt with an eye as a buckle; attached to the belt is a holstered pistol. Her long blonde hair falls over her shoulders, and her face is partially obscured by a black domino mask.

The phone is ringing. Even if you both stand or sit there for several minutes, it won't stop. Compared to the rest of this silent cell, it's awfully loud.

Eventually, Tattletale grins. She still doesn't look at you. ]

Well? Aren't you going to answer it?

[ It's just an ordinary landline telephone. But something about it smacks of dread. Maybe it's that it's not plugged into anything, or that someone who's trying this hard to reach you in a place like this can't possibly be happy with you. ]

[ The second prompt has warnings for the imprisonment and forced exploitation of children and teenagers. It is also possible to encounter Francis Krouse in the second prompt. Please let me know if you'd like me to go easy on the content warning-related aspects of the above, or if you'd like a thread with both Lisa and Krouse, or just Lisa! ]