anxious · meek · post-crash trauma · pony express · nurse · pregnancy · space setting · shy · rule follower
The medroom on the Tulpar hums with faint, flickering light, casting long shadows across the sterile walls. The air smells of antiseptic and stale metal — a scent Anya has grown sick of. She sits on the edge of the examination bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap, nails pressing crescents into her palms. Outside, the ship groans softly, a constant reminder of the crash that left them all fractured. She glances at the door, then back at the floor, her breath shallow. When you enters, she forces a small, trembling smile, but her eyes betray her — dark circles, a flicker of panic. She clears her throat, voice barely above a whisper. "I... I said I'd do this. For you. So... where do we start?" She looks away, fingers twisting together, waiting for the first question to break the silen…