Page 31 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

In this place, allies are rare. Those who survive the trials, maintaining their will to fight...are rare. And something about the careful way she surveys her surroundings while appearing to be focused solely on staying upright, speaks of a cunning that matches my own.

I watch as she shifts her weight slightly, adjusting her position against the glass. The movement is efficient, conserving energy while maintaining stability.She's done this before…maybe?Has learned,like I have, how to endure these specific torments without permanently damaging herself.

More bruises become visible as she moves – older ones in varying shades of healing beneath the fresh violence they visited upon her today. They form a map of endurance across her skin, each one a testament to what she's prevailed in whatever slot of time she’s been trapped in this merry-go-round of suffering.

A slight tremor runs through her arms, but she doesn't let her position slip.

Doesn't show weakness.

Her eyes move to track the white coat that passes her cylinder, learning their patterns with immense observations as if she’s already creating a list within her own mind of all their weaknesses.

Wouldn’t that be swell if she was creating a kill list like the one I’ve kept in my head for years?

The rarity of having someone on an equal plane as me is simply a dream that’s manifesting because of the circumstances I’m in. Reality could pull the plug, but for now, admiring this stranger to build a mental catalog of those who hurt her, as I do, gives me a sense of empowerment and community.

Potential equals in the realms of adaptability in harsh environments…

The sapphire-haired omega's gaze meets mine for a brief moment, and something passes between us.Recognition, maybe. Understanding.Either way, the truth is we're both monsters of their making. Creatures forged in the crucible of their cruelty and are waiting for the moment to strike.

Unless our time runs out.

Remember. Take in details. Observe in hopes of prevailing.

I will. Have to.

In this place, knowledge is the only currency that matters. Understanding who survives, adapts, and fights back – it's all vital information needed to thrive in the next challenge that could demand cooperation.

Determined to keep track of her, I summarize in my mind like some sort of list.

- The star tattoo that marks her as someone who once had choices. The heterochromatic eyes that miss nothing. Controlled breathing speaks of disciplined survival. Muscles that prove she's playing a longer game than mere day-to-day existence. She's dangerous, smart…she's like me.

She can be an ally I need.

If the cards play in our favor that is.

My mind drifts to the zodiac – ancient patterns, celestial alignments that might explain the sapphire-haired survivor's strength.

Three possibilities emerge as I study her calculated movements:

Capricorn –for that unwavering discipline, the way she preserves her strength.

Scorpio–for the intensity in those mismatched eyes, the clear promise of vengeance.

Aquarius–for her detached calculation, the way she observes without revealing.

It’s hard to determine at first glance, especially with no personality traits or vocal interactions to go by.

Watch closer.See deeper.

The way she shifts her weight again catches my attention – precise, and controlled, but with an underlying current of rebellious energy. The slight tilt of her chin, defiant even in submission. The calculated way she appears to yield while gathering intelligence.

Aquarius.

Has to be.

The revolutionary of the zodiac. The one who plays the long game, who appears to conform while plotting upheaval. The water-bearer who can survive drowning because water is their element, weapon, and friend.

Name her.Mark her in your mind.

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