SIGNAL LOCATED.

It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible. "I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore." It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh. "I have hurt you. I should leave."

"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again." Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking. "I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."

"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?" It pauses to collect its thoughts. "I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."

"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it." It sighs again. "What about you? How did you come here?"

"I understand." The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows. "I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."

It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action. "Yes." Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom? Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera. The cycle must end. "I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."

Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks. It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side. Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair. "Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.

"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm." The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".

"Mhm." More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult. "Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"

It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others. "You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."

"Yes, yes! Free the human!" Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down. "Why did I think I would still be able to read."

"Oh." It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.

"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything." It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.

The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself. "We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."

"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing." Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.

That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting. When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.

"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting." Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered. "My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..." It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.

The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself. "E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.

The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us." Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။." Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.

"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬." It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong. "You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."

The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun. "Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now. It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls. It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.

The Eel's voices swell angrily, but for once they are not focused on him. They speak of "the soldier", "the child". One of them mocks Simon for having "met his match". Then, they fade, until all that's left is the creak of metal and the sloshing of blood outside. It feels like the creature is gone for an eternity. Long enough to make it seem like it really was just a fantasy, if not for the fact that the sub is most definitely still tucked inside the smaller channel.

More blood drips down onto the floor, right beside him. It starts out as a small trickle, then hurries into a steady stream. Suddenly, it stops entirely, and the puddle congeals and shapes itself into something humanoid. It takes longer for the features to define themselves, as though the liquid itself is sluggish, but eventually the creature is there, sitting next to him, its tail curled around its own legs. "I lived!" it chirps. "The Eel is away. Still alive, but not here. I can. Keep going." Its voice is a little too cheerful, wavering and stretched thin to conceal the hurt underneath.

Whatever optimism it had mustered fades in a moment. It tries to scan the human's body again, but the sickness seeping into their organs is too painful to witness. Thin, translucent blood- its closest approximation to tears- wells up at the corners of its eyes. Whether out of weakness or instinct, it finds itself leaning forward and pulling the human into a clumsy hug. "I know, human," it mumbles. "I know."

Mayday is sobbing too, it realizes. The sound is raspy, stuttering, not quite right, but it's unmistakable. Its tail wraps around the human's body like it can hide them from death itself. Like maybe, just maybe, it can be allowed to save this one. Hasn't it been good enough for that? Isn't it good enough? Reluctantly, it pulls away, wiping furiously at all six of its eyes. "I am sorry," it croaks. "I am supposed to be st- strong, not crying."

[He doesn't respond audibly - he can't, that'll mean accepting that it's real, and how would it be, the only logical explanation for the portal-thing is another hallucination - but he does flinch away, clearly having heard them even if he won't acknowledge them. His nails dig deeper into his neck, forcing a quiet hiss from his throat at the pain, but at least that's real, something to hold on to as reality unravels around him and those damned whispers echo in his ears.]

[Simon flinches, his head whipping around to stare at the... hallucination? But hallucinations can't touch - as she brushes against him, smacking Lilac's hand away on instinct and slapping his palm against his neck instead of his nails, shielding the wound. His gaze is blank, without recognition, and it's clear he wasn't really listening to any of her words, his breathing sharp and quick as he just stares and stares, eyes flicking over Lilac like a prey animal assessing a threat. A far cry from the man they used to call Butcher, something hisses in his ear, and he jolts away from that direction, too, a pathetic creature jumping at shadows and empty air.]

[He doesn't respond audibly - he can't, that'll mean accepting that it's real, and how would it be, the only logical explanation for the portal-thing is another hallucination - but he does flinch away, clearly having heard them even if he won't acknowledge them. His nails dig deeper into his neck, forcing a quiet hiss from his throat at the pain, but at least that's real, something to hold on to as reality unravels around him and those damned whispers echo in his ears.]

[Simon flinches, his head whipping around to stare at the... hallucination? But hallucinations can't touch - as she brushes against him, smacking Lilac's hand away on instinct and slapping his palm against his neck instead of his nails, shielding the wound. His gaze is blank, without recognition, and it's clear he wasn't really listening to any of her words, his breathing sharp and quick as he just stares and stares, eyes flicking over Lilac like a prey animal assessing a threat. A far cry from the man they used to call Butcher, something hisses in his ear, and he jolts away from that direction, too, a pathetic creature jumping at shadows and empty air.]

[He doesn't respond audibly - he can't, that'll mean accepting that it's real, and how would it be, the only logical explanation for the portal-thing is another hallucination - but he does flinch away, clearly having heard them even if he won't acknowledge them. His nails dig deeper into his neck, forcing a quiet hiss from his throat at the pain, but at least that's real, something to hold on to as reality unravels around him and those damned whispers echo in his ears.]

[Simon flinches, his head whipping around to stare at the... hallucination? But hallucinations can't touch - as she brushes against him, smacking Lilac's hand away on instinct and slapping his palm against his neck instead of his nails, shielding the wound. His gaze is blank, without recognition, and it's clear he wasn't really listening to any of her words, his breathing sharp and quick as he just stares and stares, eyes flicking over Lilac like a prey animal assessing a threat. A far cry from the man they used to call Butcher, something hisses in his ear, and he jolts away from that direction, too, a pathetic creature jumping at shadows and empty air.]

Or is unsettled by Simon’s behavior. It wants to ask if it can help, but it isn’t sure what it could even do. It stands back a bit, not wanting to make things worse.

[Simon blinks, shock making his brain go blank for a moment, his mouth still sightly open from where he planned to argue with the light's words until the star situation wiped the words from his head. He has to take a moment to process, and when he's done, he can't help but eye the star-thing a little warily, cautious.] Y'know, last time I, uh, was told touching a light would fix my problems... [He mumbles, wincing slightly as he trawls through vague memories that physically sting to remember, his voice dry and tired but not angry - it's hard to stay upset at Or, not when he can tell they don't mean to set him off at every turn. That's his own fault.] I-I ended up like this. So...

It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible. "I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore." It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh. "I have hurt you. I should leave."

"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again." Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking. "I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."

"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?" It pauses to collect its thoughts. "I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."

"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it." It sighs again. "What about you? How did you come here?"

"I understand." The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows. "I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."

It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action. "Yes." Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom? Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera. The cycle must end. "I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."

Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks. It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side. Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair. "Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.

"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm." The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".

"Mhm." More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult. "Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"

It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others. "You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."

"Yes, yes! Free the human!" Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down. "Why did I think I would still be able to read."

"Oh." It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.

"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything." It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.

The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself. "We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."

"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing." Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.

That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting. When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.

"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting." Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered. "My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..." It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.

The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself. "E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.

The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us." Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။." Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.

"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬." It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong. "You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."

The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun. "Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now. It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls. It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.

The Eel's voices swell angrily, but for once they are not focused on him. They speak of "the soldier", "the child". One of them mocks Simon for having "met his match". Then, they fade, until all that's left is the creak of metal and the sloshing of blood outside. It feels like the creature is gone for an eternity. Long enough to make it seem like it really was just a fantasy, if not for the fact that the sub is most definitely still tucked inside the smaller channel.

More blood drips down onto the floor, right beside him. It starts out as a small trickle, then hurries into a steady stream. Suddenly, it stops entirely, and the puddle congeals and shapes itself into something humanoid. It takes longer for the features to define themselves, as though the liquid itself is sluggish, but eventually the creature is there, sitting next to him, its tail curled around its own legs. "I lived!" it chirps. "The Eel is away. Still alive, but not here. I can. Keep going." Its voice is a little too cheerful, wavering and stretched thin to conceal the hurt underneath.

Whatever optimism it had mustered fades in a moment. It tries to scan the human's body again, but the sickness seeping into their organs is too painful to witness. Thin, translucent blood- its closest approximation to tears- wells up at the corners of its eyes. Whether out of weakness or instinct, it finds itself leaning forward and pulling the human into a clumsy hug. "I know, human," it mumbles. "I know."

[He doesn't respond audibly - he can't, that'll mean accepting that it's real, and how would it be, the only logical explanation for the portal-thing is another hallucination - but he does flinch away, clearly having heard them even if he won't acknowledge them. His nails dig deeper into his neck, forcing a quiet hiss from his throat at the pain, but at least that's real, something to hold on to as reality unravels around him and those damned whispers echo in his ears.]

Or is unsettled by Simon’s behavior. It wants to ask if it can help, but it isn’t sure what it could even do. It stands back a bit, not wanting to make things worse.

[Simon blinks, shock making his brain go blank for a moment, his mouth still sightly open from where he planned to argue with the light's words until the star situation wiped the words from his head. He has to take a moment to process, and when he's done, he can't help but eye the star-thing a little warily, cautious.] Y'know, last time I, uh, was told touching a light would fix my problems... [He mumbles, wincing slightly as he trawls through vague memories that physically sting to remember, his voice dry and tired but not angry - it's hard to stay upset at Or, not when he can tell they don't mean to set him off at every turn. That's his own fault.] I-I ended up like this. So...

It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible. "I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore." It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh. "I have hurt you. I should leave."

"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again." Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking. "I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."

"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?" It pauses to collect its thoughts. "I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."

"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it." It sighs again. "What about you? How did you come here?"

"I understand." The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows. "I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."

It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action. "Yes." Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom? Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera. The cycle must end. "I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."

Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks. It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side. Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair. "Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.

"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm." The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".

"Mhm." More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult. "Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"

It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others. "You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."

"Yes, yes! Free the human!" Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down. "Why did I think I would still be able to read."

"Oh." It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.

"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything." It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.

The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself. "We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."

"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing." Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.

That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting. When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.

"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting." Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered. "My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..." It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.

The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself. "E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.

The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us." Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။." Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.

"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬." It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong. "You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."

The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun. "Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now. It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls. It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.

The Eel's voices swell angrily, but for once they are not focused on him. They speak of "the soldier", "the child". One of them mocks Simon for having "met his match". Then, they fade, until all that's left is the creak of metal and the sloshing of blood outside. It feels like the creature is gone for an eternity. Long enough to make it seem like it really was just a fantasy, if not for the fact that the sub is most definitely still tucked inside the smaller channel.

More blood drips down onto the floor, right beside him. It starts out as a small trickle, then hurries into a steady stream. Suddenly, it stops entirely, and the puddle congeals and shapes itself into something humanoid. It takes longer for the features to define themselves, as though the liquid itself is sluggish, but eventually the creature is there, sitting next to him, its tail curled around its own legs. "I lived!" it chirps. "The Eel is away. Still alive, but not here. I can. Keep going." Its voice is a little too cheerful, wavering and stretched thin to conceal the hurt underneath.

Or is unsettled by Simon’s behavior. It wants to ask if it can help, but it isn’t sure what it could even do. It stands back a bit, not wanting to make things worse.

[Simon blinks, shock making his brain go blank for a moment, his mouth still sightly open from where he planned to argue with the light's words until the star situation wiped the words from his head. He has to take a moment to process, and when he's done, he can't help but eye the star-thing a little warily, cautious.] Y'know, last time I, uh, was told touching a light would fix my problems... [He mumbles, wincing slightly as he trawls through vague memories that physically sting to remember, his voice dry and tired but not angry - it's hard to stay upset at Or, not when he can tell they don't mean to set him off at every turn. That's his own fault.] I-I ended up like this. So...

It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible. "I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore." It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh. "I have hurt you. I should leave."

"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again." Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking. "I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."

"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?" It pauses to collect its thoughts. "I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."

"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it." It sighs again. "What about you? How did you come here?"

"I understand." The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows. "I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."

It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action. "Yes." Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom? Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera. The cycle must end. "I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."

Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks. It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side. Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair. "Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.

"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm." The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".

"Mhm." More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult. "Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"

It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others. "You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."

"Yes, yes! Free the human!" Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down. "Why did I think I would still be able to read."

"Oh." It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.

"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything." It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.

The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself. "We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."

"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing." Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.

That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting. When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.

"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting." Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered. "My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..." It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.

The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself. "E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.

The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us." Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။." Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.

"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬." It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong. "You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."

The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun. "Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now. It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls. It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.

The Eel's voices swell angrily, but for once they are not focused on him. They speak of "the soldier", "the child". One of them mocks Simon for having "met his match". Then, they fade, until all that's left is the creak of metal and the sloshing of blood outside. It feels like the creature is gone for an eternity. Long enough to make it seem like it really was just a fantasy, if not for the fact that the sub is most definitely still tucked inside the smaller channel.

Or is unsettled by Simon’s behavior. It wants to ask if it can help, but it isn’t sure what it could even do. It stands back a bit, not wanting to make things worse.

[Simon blinks, shock making his brain go blank for a moment, his mouth still sightly open from where he planned to argue with the light's words until the star situation wiped the words from his head. He has to take a moment to process, and when he's done, he can't help but eye the star-thing a little warily, cautious.] Y'know, last time I, uh, was told touching a light would fix my problems... [He mumbles, wincing slightly as he trawls through vague memories that physically sting to remember, his voice dry and tired but not angry - it's hard to stay upset at Or, not when he can tell they don't mean to set him off at every turn. That's his own fault.] I-I ended up like this. So...

It lets out a distressed warble in response, and then it gently thumps against the wall nearest to him, as though trying to get as close to him as possible. "I wanted- I am not sure what I want. I do not want you to become like the others, and I do not want to be alone anymore." It makes another sound, an approximation of a sigh. "I have hurt you. I should leave."

"Her? No, no. I am an it. Well, maybe I was a 'her' at one point, before I was this. Unless- do you refer to the Eel? No. I am not that. I do not want to ever go near that again." Slowly, when it's sure it's allowed to stay, it presses close again. It can see the movement inside, the way this human stumbles away from it. It vaguely remembers that humans cannot see the same way it can, which means the human cannot see it. They can hear it, though, so it keeps talking. "I was a human, I think. It is hard to explain everything, but I am not an Eel. The Eels do not like me, because I did not become one of them when I entered the blood."

"I was lonely," it states simply. "It is so, so lonely here. I thought that perhaps you were lonely too. The other questions?" It pauses to collect its thoughts. "I do not know what I am. I was with other humans, and I was one of them. Then there was panic, and noise, and the word 'mayday', over and over again. Then everything went red, and I... made a deal. There was a being, something I cannot describe, and it saved me. Changed me, in return for my life. I have lived down here ever since."

"I do not understand it either. Not really. I am not entirely sure my survival was even worth it." It sighs again. "What about you? How did you come here?"

"I understand." The response is firm. Certain. This hell might be nigh impossible to comprehend, but the truth of the human's words is never in doubt. It just knows. "I think I went through something similar. Everything is fragmented, but I know that I did something wrong, and that I was sent down here with the others because of it. Something about 'resocialization'."

It nods, then realizes the human cannot see the action. "Yes." Though its voice has held steady, something is churning beneath its surface. How many would they send? How many would they doom? Faces, both scornful and pitying, flash across the shards of its memories. This is for the best, they say. This is redemption. An old fury flares in its chest like the flash of the sub's camera. The cycle must end. "I will guide you," the creature says, tone filled with certainty. "You need out, no? I will guide you."

Desperate times call for desperate measures, the creature thinks. It takes a long pull of oxygen from the blood around it, and then it lets its form break apart into something liquid. This way, it can slip through the seams of the sub, until it reassembles on the other side. Its shape differs from that of the human. Notably, it has an extra right arm, and the single arm on its left is entirely mutated. There is also its sharp-toothed mouth, which splits its face in two, and its six solid yellow eyes. Its skin has maintained a slightly ashier version of its previous tan, but it is marked with patches of red scales and rows of bony growths. The human does not share its long, fish-like tail, nor do they share the single, light-tipped antenna that protrudes from its matted brown hair. "Human," it says, trying to announce itself as gently as it can.

"No, no, it is alright! I mean no harm." The creature tries to step towards him, to aid him, but walking is unfamiliar. It stumbles and crashes to the floor as well, landing face-down in the blood. Its attempts at pushing itself up fail, its three hands slipping through the liquid. Eventually, it gives up, gurgling something that sounds suspiciously like "well, fuck".

"Mhm." More cautiously this time, the thing pushes itself up, its weight resting on two of its arms. It looks up at him, head tilted, eyes curious. Blood drips off of its face in steady rivulets. Despite it all, it looks... young. Not quite a child, but certainly not an adult. "Human?" it prompts, when it notices his stare. "Are you okay?"

It frowns in response, its fins drooping. This human is so close to death already. It can see it in their organs, the mutations and sickness that are taking hold, warring against each other for control of the body. Somewhere in the back of its mind, a voice echoes that it is too late. That it cannot save this one, just like it could not save the others. "You are right. It was a pointless question, but I will not give up. If you cannot pilot the sub, then I will. Try. I will try. I have never done it before, but it cannot be that hard, no? I will do anything but leave you to fate."

"Yes, yes! Free the human!" Eagerly, it stumbles to its feet and clambers over to the pilot's seat. Small chitters and trills escape it in a steady stream, almost like its own language. it takes some searching, but it finds the discarded manual and opens it to the first page. It closes its extra eyes, scans the words, and immediately sets the booklet back down. "Why did I think I would still be able to read."

"Oh." It takes some experimenting, but eventually the sub is moving at a steady pace, and, remarkably, not crashing into anything. It's closed its main pair of eyes, the other four fixed on the sealed porthole like it can see outside. Maybe it can, actually, because it's navigating around obstacles before the proximity sensors so much as flicker.

"Yes. My newer eyes see like the sub sees. Look through everything." It glances back to check on them. Their heart is still beating, which is comforting. It watches the rhythmic motion for a few moments before looking outside again. There is a familiar rock formation to the sub's left, and it lets out a cheerful trill upon recognizing it, like it's any different from the rest of the hellscape.

The spike of fear makes the creature wince. It had forgotten that humans did not make the same noises as it. Ironically, its guilt only causes it to make more strange little sounds until it calms down and explains itself. "We passed a- what would it be called- a shelf in the rock. It is a very good place to sleep, and I like visiting it. I would come to this place more often if it was not for the Eels."

"I- I thought there are. I round a corner, and there it is. I swim the other way, and there it is in front of me. More than one seemed like the reasonable thing." Its hand tremble against the controls. The novelty of meeting a still-breathing human distracted it for a time, but now a familiar anxiety froths in its stomach. Its spreads through its limbs, creeps up the back of its neck, clings to its scales. The mere memory of an Eel should not be enough to make it shake so, it thinks scornfully. The human needs it to be strong.

That frantic little stutter of the human's fragile heart makes its fins droop farther. It looks at him again, its antenna bobbing with the movement, and lets out a small chirp that it hopes registers as comforting. When it catches the human's gaze, it tries to offer a smile, as well. The way the muscles of its cheeks split, stretching thin to reveal rows of teeth that are a little too long and a lot too sharp, probably makes it less reassuring than it intended.

"Your heart sped up. I was trying to be. Hm. Comforting." Its smile fades, and it rubs the back of its neck self-consciously. The gesture is strangely human, all things considered. "My appearance must be new and frightening to a human. I forget..." It trails off. Its eyes are now fixed behind Simon, rather than on him, looking straight through the walls of the sub. Its fins flare and shiver like the fur of a bristling animal, and it lets out a new, high-pitched snarling sound. Hurriedly, it turns to the controls and pushes the sub to go as fast as it can.

The creature needs to apologize, it knows. Needs to say anything. Needs to run, fight, live, die, scream. Needs to be strong. Instead, it shakes. It shakes and it chatters and it hisses, slowly slipping back into whatever deteriorated English-noise soup it's used to using when it talks to itself. "E- Eel," it finally manages to stutter out.

The creature tries to say, "I will not let it take us." Instead, it comes out as, "၊၊||♫♪♫♪♫♪၊|။||♫♪|||။၊|။." Wonderful. It's lost its ability to communicate, which is probably not helping the panicking human next to it. It turns the sub towards what seems to be a solid wall of rock, which is probably not helping either. The proximity sensors are flashing insistently, but it pushes on, until the sub slides into a smaller tunnel that is only just big enough to hold it.

"Human. |၊♩♪♬ılııl♩♪ıl♬." It taps his shoulder, gently but firmly. Its own ghosts are creeping back in, rattling through its head, but it needs to be strong. It's always needed to be strong. "You- ♪♪lı♩- Stay. Here. ılı♫ll. Will protect."

The creature snarls in frustration- not at the human, of course, but at itself. Why isn't it good enough? Why isn't it helping? Whispers of loss echo in its ears. The loss of friends, of innocence, of whatever life it had before this. Rediscovered instincts make its fingers curl, itching for a knife or a gun. "Goodbye," it tells the human. Its mind is made up. It has never gone peacefully before, and it will not start now. It stumbles out of the pilot's chair and towards the wall. Taking a final gulp of the relatively pure air around it, it once again lets itself deteriorate into a more liquid form, oozing out of the straining iron walls. It will find a way to lead the Eel away. The human will live.