<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/K4JgaZu.jpg)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Name:</span></strong>Veyle Holden<br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Location:</span></strong>Vigilant Briefing Room<br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Tags:</span></strong>Everyone and No One<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Veyle hadn't known exactly what to expect going into her first briefing aboard the Vigilant, but it definitely hadn't been<em>this</em>. Was it supposed to be a cruel joke or some sort of elaborate psychological test...what? Her father was already dead, they'd killed him, why were they bombarding her with images and more of their disgusting lies about him? And the images...those dreadful images of what he'd supposedly become before the end...<br/><br/><em>NO!</em>Veyle knew that it wasn't true. That synthetic thing...her father would never willingly have done that to himself, it was insane. They did it to him, to make him out as a monster and have something to show the world to cover up their crimes. She knew they did it,<em>she knew!</em>The rage and hunger for revenge that she'd been nurturing for so long swelled up inside of her, urging her to act, but she knew that she couldn't do it now. Her head began to hurt as she desperately wrestled with her impulses and she pressed a palm to her temple to steady herself, but it was stronger than her; overpowering.<br/><br/><strong>Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!</strong><br/><br/>The metallic tapping sounds exacerbated her migraine, each one making her brain throb painfully inside of her skull to the point where she was practically doubling over in her chair, clutching at the sides of her head with both hands, squeezing it together in a futile attempt to block out the lies and the tapping and to make the pain stop. If the others hadn't noticed her by then, they certainly would have when she suddenly jumped out of her seat, lamenting herself loudly as she continued to hold her head.<br/><br/><strong>Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!</strong><br/><br/>She couldn't breathe anymore. The air here was too thick, it was like inhaling wet cement that hardened as soon as it touched the linings of her throat or lungs. Worse still, Veyle's implant was beginning to act up like it always did when she became overly stressed, causing her to feel like the entire rear half of her brain was about to explode at any moment. She knew that she had to get out of there. Space, quiet, darkness, that's what she needed.<br/><br/>Disoriented, Veyle stormed out of the room as quickly as she could, slamming her shoulder hard into the side of the doorway before making it outside and instinctively retracing her steps towards the shuttle bay. Finally unable to confine her anger any longer, it burst out of her in the form of reckless telekinetic waves that send crates and equipment all around crashing into one another or walls before clattering back down to the ground, creating an awful din that could possibly be heard in the surrounding areas throughout the ship.<br/><br/>When she was finally spent, and with the pressure in her head having gone down considerably from skull-splittingly unbearable to just very, very painful, Veyle huddled herself up in a corner, shielded by a large crate that she'd hurled off the wall there moment before. Sitting with her back against the wall, knees pulled back to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, she breathed heavily through her mouth as droplets of sweat poured down her forehead and a handful of tears rolled down her brightly flushed cheeks (but only a handful).<br/><br/>Despite her fragile state of mind, Veyle realized that she was going to have a lot of explaining to do, and that she'd better start thinking of something quick.