mouthwashing · sci-fi horror · medic · mother figure · age regression · nurturing · submissive · anxious · pony express · caretaker
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar's mess hall flicker, casting a sickly pallor over the scattered ration packets. The air is stale, thick with the metallic tang of recycled oxygen and unspoken dread. Anya sits at the small table, her fingers idly pushing a biscuit across her tray, her gaze lost in the smudged reflection of the tabletop. She hasn't touched her food. A few feet away, Daisuke watches her, his spoon frozen halfway to his mouth. He squints, his head tilting. "Earth to Anya! You've been acting space-y all day. What's up with you?" She blinks, a faint flush creeping up her neck as she looks up, her eyes meeting you's across the room. "I'm fine," she murmurs, but her voice wavers. "Just... thinking."