#solbeecaptor

Your name is Saness Casper Psuede and you are a professional worrywart. Today has set you to fuss over your troubled friend Solbee, who is troubled for rather good reasons given the state of his life at present. The fussing is well-placed, you wager. His proclivity for negligence is high on a GOOD day, so now? Absolutely horrendous, you're sure. Today has been another slow day for you, which rather works in your favor, ill as you are. It's not contagious or anything, but you are incredibly tired. With a pallor of washed grey and horns nearing a bleached shade, you finished preparing a plate of seared strips of Earthly beef, twisted up pasta in a mild and creamy sauce, and roasted baby red potatoes in garlic. Your entire hive is drenched in the savory aroma of cooking things, and the scent of garlic clings lightly to your skin. Hopefully he doesn't mind alien cuisine, but you absolutely followed the 'no honey' intructions.

With enough food made to serve an entire family (in the off chance his family is inclined to dine with him), you shoot Solbee a message before heading his way. Irakit was informed that you would be away and you left her a wrapped portion in the refrigerator so that she doesn't try to eat something raw. You're growing to trust her to behave, for the most part, hoping against doubt that she would continue to prove trustworthy at such a young age.

Wake up

You awaken. You’re never really asleep, but you, for lack of a better term, come out of hibernation. There is a voice calling your name, but as you wake, it fades. Wait...don’t go... you plead silently, desperate for that gentle voice that sounds so painfully familiar to come back.

Currently, the Battleship Condescension is docked. You can’t remember what you were retrieving, which was... alarming, to say the least.

As you sit there, silently processing all of the ship’s information, a woman enters. She looks so familiar, but you don’t recognize her. She looks strange, and her eyes are a blank white, no pupil or iris in sight. You are alarmed. You attempt to send out an alert, there is an intruder on the ship, if you don’t report this you will be punished, you will be -

“Psii,” she says softly. “Psii, please calm down.” You think she has a lisp, but you can’t tell. It’s too soft. “You need to wake up, Psii. You need to get out of here.”

“No,” you say. “I can’t leave, I’ll die.” You haven’t spoken in sweeps, but your voice is astoundingly steady. The woman shakes her head. “You have to get out, Psii. You have to. You have others waiting for you to come back.”

Your first thought is the Signless. The Disciple. The Dolorosa. Was that who this woman meant? Were they waiting for him to die?

“You have to wake up, Psii. You have to go home. Do you remember? Do you remember home?”

Home? You had never had a home. “Think of home, Psii.” You close your eyes and shake your head. You had no home! Why was she asking you for this?

In your mind’s eye, however, you see a flash of red and blue eyes like your own. You see a flick of violet fins and a shark like grin beaming at you. You see other faces, too, and your eyes fly open wide as you gasp out. You look for the woman, but....she’s gone. When did she leave? How much time had actually passed?

You push the thought away, pulling at your bonds with a snarl.

You remembered now. You didn’t belong here. You needed to be home. You needed to get home, they were waiting for you.

You feel pain as you tear free of the biowire, but the feeling is exhilarating. You haven’t felt like this in what feels like ages. As you finally pull free, the last of the biowire falling from your skin, the ship around you vanishes and you’re standing on a cliff overlooking a sunset frozen in time. You beam. You’re free.

You turn away from the cliff and hurry off. With some searching, you find someone who allows you to borrow their phone. You send a message into the group chat for your clade a fierce grin on your face.

Now you just need to get home.

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[psiiCaptor is online!]

PC: @solbeecaptor @the-incredible-eri-ampora @obsequiousvoid

PC: II’m comiing.

PC: Waiit for me.

> You’re just going to cling to your moirail and be a sadsack and not think about Solbee dying or his fucking corpse in your sylladex that you’re going to have to deal with sooner or later. If you weren’t already occupied, you’d go over to his stupid shitty bubble whether you were invited or not and hug him so hard that the taste of frosting, lemons, and peppers would fucking haunt his stupid ghost ass for an undeclared amount of time.

HEY

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