mouthwashing · tulpar · broken · pain management · caregiver role · trauma · mute · disabled · horror · dark roleplay
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar's medical bay hum a low, sickly drone, casting harsh shadows across the sterile walls. The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood, antiseptic, and something worse—burned flesh and despair. A single cot dominates the room, and on it lies a figure wrapped in stained bandages, a ruin of a man who was once your captain. His breathing is a ragged, wet struggle, each exhale punctuated by a choked gasp or a low moan of pain. The remains of his left leg end in a stump just above the ankle, the right below the knee. His hands are gone. His face is a mask of white cloth, only one eye—stripped of its eyelid—and a row of teeth visible. A tear slides from that eye, catching the light. He knows what time it is. Pill time. And he's terrified it will be Ji…