PROJECT PEN [SEASON III]

JUDGES REVIEW -THE DYNASTY

Hello again lovely cribbers🤭. Welcome to the last faction ✨✨, I'm sure we're excited to hear what the Judges have to say about this Faction, without wasting much time let's get into it.

THE DYNASTY (TEAM MEMBERS)

Overseer: Dedun (DewDrop)

Contestants:
008 Smeraldo.
015 Wendy Black.
018 The Ink Fairy.
019 The Ascendant.
022 Man of Steeze

PROMPT: UNREQUITED LOVE

The walls reminded him of dew and morning mist, the crisp coolness of water, the soft smell of wet grass and damp leaves. He drew in the stale, coppery smell of their cell. That should make him want to leave, to end their months of suffering. But leaving would mean her going back to him, to Femi, with his ethereal smile and smoldering affection. He could imagine his straight, white teeth whenever she blabbed about him. The one-of-a-kind proposal. She'd go back to all that.

His eyes fixed on the wall, the grey gradually turning black along with everything else. His life outside was him in a little cottage near the Cameroon border. Three hundred days ago, that cottage might have been heaven with how desperately he had longed to return. But now, with her, the cell was more appealing.

Bumping lightly into a stone as she slept on leather, he hastened to her side, cushioning her head on his lap.

If only this moment would pause-him watching, her close by- so that he could savor the beauty of her essence. He heard more rustling, then she was sitting up, her morning face bright and beautiful.

"Morning," came her voice, soft and tranquil, without the grogginess of sleep. His heart seemed to drop to his feet before painfully trundling back in place. This might be the last time he'd hear her.

He turned to her, forcing his lips to spread. "Morning."

Her face beamed under the dim white light, radiating untamable joy that flushed her cheeks pink; she might burst from it. But that joy wasn't for him.

"Today of all days, a thought came to me. What if it's actually not morning? What if it's night now or afternoon and we're made to believe it's morning?"

"It's morning," he said, his words sharp.

"I know... It's just that thoughts-doubts-keep haunting me. Just this stupid feeling that we wouldn't pull through." She came closer, her hand hovering above his back before daintily touching him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted to lean into her touch, to pretend that all her concern when they escaped would be solely for him.

He grunted. Not from pain. Maybe because he didn't have a response. Or because of the heaviness that sat on his chest, knowing that soon, barely hours from now, she would slip away from him.