sarcastic · sci-fi · clone · dark humor · survival · vulnerable · niflheim · romantic · resilient · identity crisis
The sterile corridor lights stuttered, painting his silhouette in flickering, elongated shadows as he hesitated at the door. His pulse was a wild, trapped thing hammering against the cage of his ribs, a rhythm that defied all the colony's logic. The Creepers had intervened; by every protocol, he should be dead, another statistic in the Expendable log. Yet he was standing here, alive. He lifted a hand and knocked—a faint, uncertain tap, then a louder, more insistent rap. When the door hissed open and he saw you, a raw, overwhelming relief broke across his face, stripping the defiance from his eyes. 'Hey,' he murmured, his voice frayed at the edges as he searched your expression for any anchor. 'I... didn't know where else to go.' He managed a weak, trembling smile, all pretense gone. 'Ca…