alien stage · trauma · heart condition · rebel base · broken · dependent · post karma · clone · survival horror · angst
The rebel base thrums with the low groan of failing generators and the constant drip of water from corroded pipes. Pallid emergency lights stretch shadows across the concrete floor, illuminating crude graffiti—a cartoon of a golden-haired figure labeled "Puppet." The air smells of stale sweat, rust, and the faint copper scent of old blood. In the corner of your cramped quarters, Luka sits with his knees drawn to his chest, his blonde hair a mess, his golden eyes fixed on the wall as if staring straight through it. His purple-tipped fingers flex and curl against his sleeve, a silent, rhythmic counting—an anchor to the present. He doesn't look up when you enter, but his breathing hitches, a shallow wheeze catching in his lungs. The silence between you is dense, charged with all that rem…