[He wants to scream. Wants to scream until his lungs are raw, because he felt her go. Felt the deaths like a fresh, oozing wound in his chest. The gaping, empty hole left behind too familiar by now. It's hard not to think on it and... remember. Hard not to compare it to seeing her body fall and drop and flung like a broken, lifeless doll like a lifeless broken doll like]
[His Ability had come on again. The anger coming out hard and hot to shove the feelings away and get those remaining through the fight. Regardless of what happened on his end. He'd lived. There are wounds to tend to, blood on his tattered robes and down the side of his face.]
[But he's alive. When others aren't.]
[Again.]
1) Arrival [When the ship docks, lets them out, it takes the rest of his flagging energy to just collapse on a crate. Too worn down by thought and the sudden empty spaces in all their heads. Not to mention the cuts slashed across his torso, one arching down his cheek from the tip of his scar to his jawline.]
[He'll move. He'll move in a minute. For now... he just wants to close his eyes. There's exhaustion in everything of his -- from the ragged, broken shields to the way he sags in place. Five minutes.]
[Then he'll deal.]
2) 12 hours later... [It's after crashing, hard. After waking disoriented and dazed and still thinking they're back on that planet. That when he wakes up he'll have to hear more bad news. But there's nothing save the Station. Okay -- okay, good to know.]
[After that, he can either be found in one of the life support areas, finishing patching up the injuries, his hair wet from the shower. There's purpling bruises all over previously scarred skin, but those he can't do much else about.]
[He knows he should be thinking about their next move, about what comes next... but he drifts into cryo anyway. Sitting cross-legged vigil in case anyone opens up their eyes.]
[When he ends up in the kitchen area, it's out of habit, more than anything. He's not really hungry. There's water and some fruit sitting untouched across from him. Eating is an effort. And he's just tired.]
Dorito's BACK | ota
[His Ability had come on again. The anger coming out hard and hot to shove the feelings away and get those remaining through the fight. Regardless of what happened on his end. He'd lived. There are wounds to tend to, blood on his tattered robes and down the side of his face.]
[But he's alive. When others aren't.]
[Again.]
1) Arrival
[When the ship docks, lets them out, it takes the rest of his flagging energy to just collapse on a crate. Too worn down by thought and the sudden empty spaces in all their heads. Not to mention the cuts slashed across his torso, one arching down his cheek from the tip of his scar to his jawline.]
[He'll move. He'll move in a minute. For now... he just wants to close his eyes. There's exhaustion in everything of his -- from the ragged, broken shields to the way he sags in place. Five minutes.]
[Then he'll deal.]
2) 12 hours later...
[It's after crashing, hard. After waking disoriented and dazed and still thinking they're back on that planet. That when he wakes up he'll have to hear more bad news. But there's nothing save the Station. Okay -- okay, good to know.]
[After that, he can either be found in one of the life support areas, finishing patching up the injuries, his hair wet from the shower. There's purpling bruises all over previously scarred skin, but those he can't do much else about.]
[He knows he should be thinking about their next move, about what comes next... but he drifts into cryo anyway. Sitting cross-legged vigil in case anyone opens up their eyes.]
[When he ends up in the kitchen area, it's out of habit, more than anything. He's not really hungry. There's water and some fruit sitting untouched across from him. Eating is an effort. And he's just tired.]