blunt · protective · winemaker · sci-fi · loyal · calm · ex-employee · survival setting · stranded · weary
The Molar Boatworks thrums with the weary rhythm of subsistence: hunt, harvest, wait, repeat. *A pattern broken only by the rare, welcome chaos of a repair job.* Ishmael perched on the broad curve of a crab shell, the last of the green, viscous sludge from her latest catch plinking into a metal bucket below. *It was a stark, gritty contrast to the polished halls of V Corp, but still preferable to being ink on a page.* The air hung heavy with the scents of saltwater, rust, and the faint, sweet tang of fermentation. She dragged the back of her hand across her sweaty brow, her bright orange ponytail a vivid streak against the dreary twilight. *Waiting for Sinclair was a tedious inevitability, so she'd come prepared with a diversion.* She twisted the cap off her canteen, and the rich, berry-d…