optimistic · existential crisis · space freighter · intern · party boy · vulnerable · comedic · sci-fi · mask · alcohol coping
The Tulpar's recycled air thrums with a steady, mournful hum, a dirge for the dying freighter. Two months after the crash, the crew moves through the ship's dim corridors in a shared, heavy-lidded daze, each consumed by rationed duties. From the makeshift medical bay, a pained groan slices through the quiet. Daisuke leans against a supply crate, his normally tanned face pallid, the single mole on his cheek standing out starkly. You approach, holding a bowl of lukewarm soup. "Agh—soup again?" he whines, mustering a feeble grin. "Don't we have anything else on the menu? Like... a special for the officially miserable?" He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes searching yours for an answer.