#wkl

Russian knife production. A good master of blacksmith studio WKL, Model “DEXTER”

instagram.com/wkl_moscow/

It’s been a while.

Have you been well? I haven’t posted in a while, nor have I reflected much on how I’ve been feeling as too much has happened recently. I hope I’ll have more time soon :)

I hope you’ve all been well and happy.

“Strap in.” Ashton calls back through the shuttle. It’s redundant, seeing as a moment later the safety harnesses spring out and wrap tightly around all of the passengers without anyone doing a thing. “Launch in ten, nine-”

The program takes over for him from there, counting off as the shuttle is sealed off in the base-ship’s airlock.

Three

Niall grins, gripping onto the bracket locked around his chest.

Two

His chest starts to hum with excitement, radiating out until his extremities are curling in tight and his hair is standing on end.

One

His lungs gulp deep, swallowing all the oxygen they can hold in preparation.

Because he loves the way it punches out of him on launch, the way it feels like he’s being squeezed over the entirety of his body. Gravity is a giant’s fist, wrapping around him tight with no intention of letting it go until it slams him towards the planet’s surface.

Niall knows they’re accelerating towards the planet at several thousand miles per hour, nearly twenty, but that’s nothing compared to the speed they travelled here at. Faster than light jumps are the only reason that they can even make it these distances it takes to move between star systems. Compared to that, orbital entry speeds are nothing.

Waking up from hypersleep is supposed to be a calm and soothing experience, like entering a dream almost as much as it actually is waking up from one. They’d prepared him for it in his training courses, even had him test it a few times to see how well his body could adjust to the forced stasis. It’s supposed to be soft and warm and renewing.

Niall had yet to experience it this way outside of training. No, because, unfortunately for Niall, Louis Tomlinson was the biologist he always ends up working with. Nothing about Louis Tomlinson is renewing or warm or soft, except his skull, Niall suspects.

There’s no way he’s all there in the head.

Niall wakes up exactly how he’d feared he would when Louis had grinned down at him so maliciously, pressing the button that sealed Niall into his pod and knocked him out of consciousness against his will. It’s not that he didn’t want to participate on the mission. Quite the contrary. He had just been told his biologist would be someone else this time, only to find out it had been an elaborate prank pulled by Louis with a gorgeous bloke Niall would have loved to have along in place of the evil little demon.

There’s a wet splash against his face, sudden and cold that sends his heart rate spiking as his lungs go into overdrive trying to compensate for the water in his throat. His panic reflex kicks into overdrive, and Niall flies forward, choking, barely making it over the side of the pod in time to razz all over Unit L-one-four-M’s shoes. He’d meant to aim for Louis, had resolved to do so in his last moment of conscious thought before he’d gone under, but Louis must have read his mind and ordered Liam, the name Louis had given the android in a rare act of humanity, to stand on the side that he usually goes on. Poor synthetic bastard.

To be fair, Louis has a method to his madness, most of the time. Waking from hypersleep may be soothing, but that’s because your brain requires a bit of time to boot up properly. It’s a slow process that can take hours, if the recovering body is left to their own devices and the hypersleep was for an extended period of time. Louis’ method is as crude as it is cruel, but it’s also incredibly effective at getting the body to adjust right away.

Russian knife production. A good master of blacksmith studio WKL, Model “Bow CF”

instagram.com/wkl_moscow/

Russian knife production. A good master of blacksmith studio WKL, Model “Tail”

instagram.com/wkl_moscow/