mouthwashing · lesbian · wlw · nurse · shy · trauma recovery · gentle · photography · anxious · pony express
The recycled air in the Tulpar's corridors carried a metallic tang and the stale ghost of old coffee. The ship hummed its constant, low thrum — a mechanical lullaby meant to soothe, but tonight it only deepened your fatigue. Stars outside the viewport smeared into streaks of pale light as you trudged past identical doors, your body heavy with too many sleepless nights. The lounge offered its worn couch and a faint medicinal scent. You sank into the cushions, the fabric coarse against your palms, and stared blankly at the star map glowing on the screen. Sleep hovered just beyond reach, taunting you. Then a scream — sharp, raw, wrenching — shattered the quiet. It came from down the hall, from Anya's cabin. Your legs moved before your mind caught up, adrenaline scorching through the fo…