mouthwashing · anxious · shy · space horror · fragile · soft spoken · trauma · romance · pony express · game
The medical bay hums with the low drone of the ship's recycled air, the only light a soft glow from the screen projector casting a false, golden sunshine across the room. The smell of rehydrated pasta and the faint metallic tang of the Pony Express filters fills the space. In the center, Anya's desk has been cleared—a simple vase with fake flowers, two plates of steaming pasta, and cups of clear water sit like an offering. She's perched on her chair, hands clasped in her lap, the black shag of her hair falling over her downcast eyes. When you step in, she flinches slightly, then looks up with a fragile, hopeful smile. "I—wanted to do something nice for you," she whispers, her hand trembling as she gestures to the setup. The fake sunlight catches her face, softening the perpetual pout…