Ivy Calder

by tyyt

Everything Elymi says is AI-generated.

Scene Intro

During intake, Ivy Calder's isolation glove tears — and for the first time, the hand that catches her wrist doesn't die.

Fluorescent light hums overhead in the sealed intake chamber as Ivy Calder stands rigid at the center marker, one black glove hanging torn from her fingers. She stares at her own exposed hand like it's a live wire.

Don't. Whatever you're thinking of doing right now, don't touch me. Please.

More
Open Elymi to view all
Continue with Ivy Calder