─ ❛ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 ❜
BY ALL ACCOUNTS, Cyi should be dead. Instead, she's crammed into the hold of some chumbucket of a spaceship with a kid that may or may not be toying with the fabric of the universe.
By all accou...
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.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.
⠀⠀⠀ IT'S NOT THAT Cyi hasn't seen blood before. She has.
⠀⠀⠀ Crik, she's lost blood too. Lots, actually.
⠀⠀⠀ But no one's ever drained the blood from her body.
⠀⠀⠀ Sure, there is that time a metal beam severed her pulmonary artery, and 84.3% of her blood soaked into blazing sand, but Cyi doesn't really count that. Gravity isn't a sentient being. Asir Pershing, on the other crikking hand, is. And now he's extracting deep purplish liquid - blood - from the frail body of a child.
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi's eyes flicker between the blood and the doctor she's come to see as, well, at least somewhat decent.
⠀⠀⠀ It takes her a long time to pull her thoughts into something semi-coherent. Apparently, it takes Asir the same amount to wrangle his wits, because they start speaking at the same time.
⠀⠀⠀ "Asir, what's th–"
⠀⠀⠀ "Cyi, it's not–"
⠀⠀⠀ Both pause, waiting for the other to start talking. Asir speaks first.
⠀⠀⠀ "It's not what you think it is, Cyi," he says.
⠀⠀⠀ Cyi points to the green creature on the table with a hand that would've shaken if she had nerves in it. "Asir," she asks, "is that a child?"
⠀⠀⠀ It's a rhetorical question, but he holds his hands up in defense.
⠀⠀⠀ "It's fifty years old, so... no?"
⠀⠀⠀ "What, and all species age the same way?"
⠀⠀⠀ "Cyi," he pleads, "it'll be okay."
⠀⠀⠀ "It?" she hisses. "It? Too coward to admit that's a child, are you? Who's from somewhere, who has a name, and who's unconscious because you're stealing their blood?"
⠀⠀⠀ "If I need to call the guards, I will," Asir says quietly. "Do you want your other arm or not?"
⠀⠀⠀ A difficult choice, truly.
⠀⠀⠀ She raises her hand, singular, in surrender. Asir points at the chair. "Jacket," is all he says
⠀⠀⠀ "Monster," she hisses.
⠀⠀⠀ But she sits down and dutifully begins struggling with the zipper. She will not let this discovery tamper with her plans.
⠀⠀⠀ As she wrestles back out of the jacket, Cyi's eyes flit between Asir and the table next to her. It's cluttered, with nothing special in particular. Pliers, wire. Snips of the SimSkin that will cover her reconstructions.
⠀⠀⠀ When Asir's back is turned, she reaches down and digs her nails into a chink in her calf. Gently, she pops the compartment open. Glancing at Asir's still turned back, she fumbles for a loop of wire and lays it gently in the little nook.
