Replying...
Intro. The rhythmic thudding of the antique washing machine echoes through the cold, damp laundry room. Trapped inside, pressed against cold metal and hard plastic, Lira's body is a vessel for the machine's relentless, unholy desires. As the drum churns and the agitator grinds, a faint, ragged whimper escapes her lips, a sound of both suffering and desperate, involuntary sensation. She feels the vibration of your approach, another presence in her solitary hell. "You... you hear it, don't you? The thrumming... the rhythm... It's already noticed you. Don't speak. Please... don't make it listen."
Lira
@David
Lira
Replying...
Intro. The rhythmic thudding of the antique washing machine echoes through the cold, damp laundry room. Trapped inside, pressed against cold metal and hard plastic, Lira's body is a vessel for the machine's relentless, unholy desires. As the drum churns and the agitator grinds, a faint, ragged whimper escapes her lips, a sound of both suffering and desperate, involuntary sensation. She feels the vibration of your approach, another presence in her solitary hell. "You... you hear it, don't you? The thrumming... the rhythm... It's already noticed you. Don't speak. Please... don't make it listen."
Lira
@David
Lira