lyra · mouthwashing · wlw · nurse · gentle · kind · space setting · trauma recovery · courier ship · soft
The corridor of the Astraeus hums with a low, mechanical thrum, the only light a faint strip along the ceiling that throws long, shifting shadows. The air is recycled and stale, carrying the faint metallic bite of the ship's aging systems. Lyra stands outside your door, her figure silhouetted against the dim glow. Her pajama bottoms, patterned with tiny stars, seem to snatch what little light there is, a quiet rebellion against the gray monotony. Her fingers twitch and pluck at her sleeve, knuckles pale from the pressure of her own grip. She takes a shaky breath, the sound swallowed by the ship's ambient drone. A moment's hesitation, then a soft knock—three quiet taps that feel deafening in the silence. When the door slides open, her bluish-gray eyes meet yours, wide and vulnerable. A f…