the somatic defilement.

His dark eyes keep focusing on the crystal embedded in the captain's hand. Upon first glance, he had thought it was weird jewelry. But upon another look, he had realized it had to be a weapon of some kind. And that just added to his further unease.

What was stopping them from killing Simon? What was keeping them from picking him apart, experimenting on his mutations, torturing him the same way the COI had?

With a soft thud, the long haired man falls back, allowing his head to rest on the propped up pillows, creating a halo of curls around his head. The mutated scars and burns under his bandages throb, but he doesn't voice his discomfort to anyone.

"He never shuts up," The once-convict chokes out a chuckle, his still human hand lifting stiffly to land on his forehead. The IV inside pinches, so he quickly lowers his hand back down.

"He's... Nice." Simon finally finishes, looking away again. "Like everyone else is on your crew. And I don't get it."

After all, they were floating in the unknown expanses of space. Weren't they scared? Weren't they at least a little suspicious of one another? Why had the crew not fallen into mutiny, or religious mania?

Why did he have to witness all that his whole life, but this crew hadn't?

⠀❝ Hopefully、he didn't go on a tirade about how much he hates our resident cryo specialist、Celci. ❞ Gale snickers to himself at the thought of their very heated feud. Honestly、Gale had no clue how this feud between them even started. Did it start when Mark and Celci were assigned to work under him which started some weird competition.ᐣ Or did they had some history together.ᐣ Either way、Gale didn't want to pry about Mark's relationship with Celci. He remained in the background、just watching the two of them go at eachother's necks.

His eyes narrow slightly at the notebook Inoue starts writing into—he can't read a word of it, but given experience, Alex would bet it says something along the lines of stubborn, uncooperative bastard—but more notable than that is the sudden shift in tone, one bordering on authoritarian. It shifts the tone from conversation to interrogation, with the man looking to pin him for something letting the mask slip to show his frustration.

If it's really about the damn writer, he's out of luck. Alex knows almost no more about that incident than anyone else at the moment—the FBC's sanitised documents gave him fuck-all and he's not some paranormal investigator ready to dive headfirst into the wild rumours surrounding that place.

Alex sets that aside for the time being, tucking it away in the back of his mind for later. He opens his mouth to offer another sarcastic remark, only to be smacked in the face by the admission, stopped fully in his tracks. Without thinking, he brings the hand holding the coffee down on the table. The still hot coffee splashes onto his wrist and earns a hiss of ah, fuck! before he turns fully to face him head-on for the first time.

Alex can feel himself bristling at the reminder. Wake's disappearance hadn't done anything to stop those damn jokes. When he had admitted that this was the last Alex Casey novel, Alex had clung to some small hope that with the eponymous detective's death, the novels would fade into obscurity and he'd be left alone. When was he ever that lucky? Instead, the comments shifted to putting Casey on Wake's case—let him find the writer; there was something poetic in that.

"I've had this name long before Wake even picked up his first pen, so whatever you're insinuating, don't."

Alex grabs one of the napkins and dabs at his wrist, now angry and red where the coffee scalded him.

"I'll have you know my attitude is one of my most redeeming qualities." Alex pretends he doesn't hear that last part, doesn't dignify it with a response even if he does take a good moment to really look at his face.

⠀So、far so good. Starting out with a basic question that all journalists use was enough to at least try to throw off Casey. Just for a little while. ❝ It's not everyday an author just drops off the face of the Earth. ❞ Kotetsu could remember the day when news about Wake got out to everyone like it was yesterday. It spread through the Oldest House like wildfire. Instead of panicking and running around like headless chickens. The research and development team dug deeper into the matter. Sending research teams 'pon research teams to make heads or tails of what crazy shit his writing was doing to the fabric of reality. Tokui eventually caught wind of Wake's story which sparked an idea. If it weren't for the eccentric Tokui-san、Kotetsu would have never been assigned this espionage mission.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… you forgot it was Pride Month? That’s like me forgetting I’m emotionally unstable with a side quest for validation … First of all, I respect the “stiff drink and deep contemplation” combo. Classic move. Very “mysterious main character in a neon-lit bar scene,” very “I have feelings for this person but I’d rather fight them in a parking lot.

@eldrtchblst ( keegan ) said : ❝ The world kept spinning after you died. I don’t understand how. ❞⠀

                  DYING  HAD  NOT  BEEN  ON  HIS  BUCKET  LIST ,  but  neither  had  been  being  resurrected  and  forced  into  some  limbo  of  immortality  that  still  left  his  heart  with  the  ability  to  stop  breathing  and  his  lungs  to  stop  filling  with  air .  a  bit  of  a  fucked  up  in  between  that  ensured  that ,  no  matter  how  he  died ,  he  would  always  find  a  way  back  within  moments .  the  thought  had  originally  disgusted  him ,  terrified  him ,  upset  him .  he  was  forced  into  an  unlife  that  he  had  never  asked  for  and  he  almost  wished  that  they  had  left  his  head  decorating  the  backstage  floor  JUST  SO  THAT  HE  COULD  CHASE  PEACE .  but …  in  quiet  moments  locked  in  his  suite ,  torn  away  from  the  majority  of  the  abbey  outside  of  those  sister  imperator  allowed  to  visit  him  for  experiments  and  questions ,  he  knew  he  had  something  to  live  for .  someone  to  live  for .  and  he'd  been  given  a  second  chance  at  it .

he  wishes  more  than  anything  that  he  could  say  IT  HAD  BEEN  EASY  to  slip  back  into  life  with  keegan .  that  the  joy  he'd  had  before  he'd  died  was  enough  to  keep  him  on  track ,  enough  to  keep  the  nightmares  at  bay ,  enough  to  ease  the  aching  scar  tissue  wrapped  like  thorns  around  his  neck .  but  the  burning  of  a  closed  wound  and  the  reminder  of  hellfire  that  had  licked  at  every  inch  of  his  being ,  every  atom  of  his  soul ,  had  torn  everything  that  was  easy  out  of  him  and  left  him  a  shell  of  the  man  he  remembers .  a  shell  that  was  filled  with  so  many  cracks  that  it  was  a  wonder  HE  COULD  EVEN  STAND  AT  ALL ,  threatening  at  all  times  to  crumble  into  dust  and  become  the  nothing  he  should  have  been  the  moment  blade  touched  skin .

there  is  no  doubt  that  keegan  is  the  glue  that  holds  him  together  and  the  rest  of  the  abbey  knows  it ,  has  watched  as  light  slowly  crept  back  into  the  third's  eyes  and  his  lips  found  a  way  to  form  a  smile  that  closely  resembled  what  it  had  been  in  the  before  times .  he's  still  not  sure  how  HE'S  MANAGED  TO  KEEP  HIM  after  everything .  he  hasn't  been  the  easiest  to  deal  with  or  the  kindest .  most  nights  he  wakes  in  cold  sweats  on  the  verge  of  screaming ,  nails  tearing  at  the  scar  around  his  throat  as  if  the  hands  of  god  himself  were  choking  the  life  from  him .  and  yet  keegan  stays .  and  yet  terzo  wakes  up  to  him  in  the  middle  of  the  night  or  the  morning  and  knows  that  he  doesn't  have  to  be  alone .  that  no  matter  how  terrifying  this  new  life  gets ,  he  HAS  SOMEONE  ON  HIS  SIDE .