i: you are the cause of these horrid complications
[It's jarring, to say the least. Like a sudden dream - and Angela is of the firm belief that dreams should never be sudden. The mist obscures her view and with the crowding trees it makes her feel sort of claustrophobic. She has to take care to keep her suit's wings free of the lower hanging branches.]
[It feels like days that she wanders, using the most unusual trees as landmarks to tell where she's been and where she hasn't. These odd silvery trees, with leaves like hands and low branches. It doesn't even cross her mind that they could be moving, making her walk in circles, keeping her thoroughly lost in this mist-shrouded forest.]
[In fact, this one tree has been moving itself in such a way that Angela has now made four left turns at the "tree with the broken branch". It is either playing with her or just a real bitch of a tree.]
[Please, someone fill this poor woman in, she's so lost.]
ii: and i might say, "you were wrong to take it from me..." CW: Illness, injury, death mentions.
[She remembers every single one of them.]
[Their names, their faces, their ailments - even the last words she heard them speak, if they got that luxury. Every patient Angela Ziegler has lost has haunted her thoughts all her life. So when she sees the first one, peeking out from behind a tree in the distance, it cements her idea that this is all a dream. It has to be, unless there's an afterlife and she's found herself trapped in her own personal hell.]
[Angela tries to keep calm, keeping her pace steady as she strides along, but her hand tightens more around her staff with each familiar face she sees. Bullet wound, that one. Explosive damage, the next. Cancer. Torn up by a Bastion unit, just a child, and that one- God, why were they running? Why did they have to run from her now? Was she a monster to them for her failures? The last thing they saw, their last hope of living, and she failed them.]
[Finally, under the weight of every lost life, every failure...she folds. Crumpling to her knees, staring at her reflection in a silvery pool of water in front of her, she starts to cry. Her face remains calm, but the tears come without resistance. She doesn't have it in her to hold them back. There's a numbness that comes with crying for her. A defense mechanism, to keep herself from feeling weak and to allow her to bounce back quickly in case of an emergency. So although she can hear herself mumbling, she isn't fully in control of the words that come out.]
I'm sorry. I did all I could. I really did, you have to believe that. All of you, you have to believe that.
Mercy | Overwatch | OTA
[It's jarring, to say the least. Like a sudden dream - and Angela is of the firm belief that dreams should never be sudden. The mist obscures her view and with the crowding trees it makes her feel sort of claustrophobic. She has to take care to keep her suit's wings free of the lower hanging branches.]
[It feels like days that she wanders, using the most unusual trees as landmarks to tell where she's been and where she hasn't. These odd silvery trees, with leaves like hands and low branches. It doesn't even cross her mind that they could be moving, making her walk in circles, keeping her thoroughly lost in this mist-shrouded forest.]
[In fact, this one tree has been moving itself in such a way that Angela has now made four left turns at the "tree with the broken branch". It is either playing with her or just a real bitch of a tree.]
[Please, someone fill this poor woman in, she's so lost.]
ii: and i might say, "you were wrong to take it from me..."
CW: Illness, injury, death mentions.
[She remembers every single one of them.]
[Their names, their faces, their ailments - even the last words she heard them speak, if they got that luxury. Every patient Angela Ziegler has lost has haunted her thoughts all her life. So when she sees the first one, peeking out from behind a tree in the distance, it cements her idea that this is all a dream. It has to be, unless there's an afterlife and she's found herself trapped in her own personal hell.]
[Angela tries to keep calm, keeping her pace steady as she strides along, but her hand tightens more around her staff with each familiar face she sees. Bullet wound, that one. Explosive damage, the next. Cancer. Torn up by a Bastion unit, just a child, and that one- God, why were they running? Why did they have to run from her now? Was she a monster to them for her failures? The last thing they saw, their last hope of living, and she failed them.]
[Finally, under the weight of every lost life, every failure...she folds. Crumpling to her knees, staring at her reflection in a silvery pool of water in front of her, she starts to cry. Her face remains calm, but the tears come without resistance. She doesn't have it in her to hold them back. There's a numbness that comes with crying for her. A defense mechanism, to keep herself from feeling weak and to allow her to bounce back quickly in case of an emergency. So although she can hear herself mumbling, she isn't fully in control of the words that come out.]
I'm sorry. I did all I could. I really did, you have to believe that. All of you, you have to believe that.
[Don't run from me anymore, please.]