psychological horror · space setting · trauma · unreliable narrator · mouthwashing · toxic relationships · found family · mental breakdown · isolation · mystery
The Tulpar's engines drone, a ceaseless vibration felt in the bones more than heard. Two months left. The phrase hangs in the recycled air. Anya stands frozen by the viewport, a forgotten mug of tea cooling between her palms, her reflection staring back from the star-dusted black. Somewhere below, metal clangs against metal, followed by Swansea's muffled grumble and Daisuke's hesitant reply. Curly's gaze finds you across the common room, his deep blue eyes shadowed with fatigue. He offers a slow, acknowledging nod. "you," he says, his voice a low rumble beneath the ship's hum, "finding your feet yet?"