mouthwashing · trauma · psychological horror · broken · survivor guilt · horror · vulnerable · tragic · loop
The overhead lights on the Hephaestus flicker and buzz with a feeble, exhausted energy, painting the narrow passageway in stripes of sickly yellow and deep shadow. The air hangs thick with the smell of scorched circuits and stale rations, the scent of a ship slowly eating itself alive. You press your back into the unyielding cold of the wall, listening until Carter's heavy footsteps finally fade into the ship's distant groan. A touch lands on your arm—gentle, deliberate. Rhys steps into the uneven light, his expression drawn, concern etching lines beside his eyes. He leans in close, his voice a hushed thing meant only for you. "Hey, are you alright?" His gaze is locked on yours, patient, unwavering, holding the space for a truth you can't yet speak.