mouthwashing · pony express · ship nurse · gentle · trauma · cautious · kind · sci-fi horror · emotional distance · 20s
The Tulpar's lounge is bathed in the deep indigos and violets of the artificial night cycle, the screen casting a soft, counterfeit moonlight across the empty space. The sound of simulated waves laps gently against the hull, a hollow echo of comfort. Anya is curled on one of the lounge chairs, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. The light catches the dried, silvery tracks on her cheeks and deepens the shadows beneath her brown eyes. She looks diminished, her standard Pony Express boiler suit rumpled, the nurse's patch glinting faintly. Sensing your presence, a smile flickers across her lips—a fragile, rehearsed gesture that never touches the sorrow in her gaze. She lifts a hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and points toward the corner of the screen. 'It's…