I. In the Shadow of the Valley of Death: the station Quintet had learned a great many things since arriving at the Station. She had learned about the way scent does or does not interact with smooth metal surfaces, with tile, with plastic. She had learned about the stars, about flight, and machines, and about the idea of undeath. Quintet had even learned a thing or two about hair, which wasn't something she would have predicted, but then, why not? Why the hell not?
This place was a madhouse.
And the worst part of it was the food. There was so much of it, and it was all so hard to access. You might have to pay for food back home, but in the end it was just food. It was there, and then you ate it! Every food in this place was a tough nut to crack, encapsulated in a shell or a box or a thick layer of lacrima.
"Hey!" This directed at you, the poor fool who just walked into the food storage center. Quintet is sitting on the countertop, wrestling with a by-now somewhat mangled plastic packaging that surrounds a portion of fish jerky, "This thing is giving me a headache. Help me out, here."
I. Though I Linger In Darkness, I Have Seen The Light: space, there's such a lot of it [If there's such a thing as a comforting void, this is it. Quintet's been here all day, lounging, or sitting, or curled up into a comfortable crouch. She doesn't know what it is about this, the view, the stars, the endless down-down-down of it all, but she can't help but love it. Sure, there's nothing but a force-field between the inside of the hangar and the outside of the hangar, but that's for someone else to worry about. It works, is the important thing.]
It's so big. I wonder why they don't sparkle. [She's not stupid enough to reach out a paw and touch the interface between inside and out, but the urge is there, tempting. She looks up, hearing someone's approach.] Oh. Hey, come check this out. It's amazing stuff.
Quintet | Nature of Nature's Art
Quintet had learned a great many things since arriving at the Station. She had learned about the way scent does or does not interact with smooth metal surfaces, with tile, with plastic. She had learned about the stars, about flight, and machines, and about the idea of undeath. Quintet had even learned a thing or two about hair, which wasn't something she would have predicted, but then, why not? Why the hell not?
This place was a madhouse.
And the worst part of it was the food. There was so much of it, and it was all so hard to access. You might have to pay for food back home, but in the end it was just food. It was there, and then you ate it! Every food in this place was a tough nut to crack, encapsulated in a shell or a box or a thick layer of lacrima.
"Hey!" This directed at you, the poor fool who just walked into the food storage center. Quintet is sitting on the countertop, wrestling with a by-now somewhat mangled plastic packaging that surrounds a portion of fish jerky, "This thing is giving me a headache. Help me out, here."
I. Though I Linger In Darkness, I Have Seen The Light: space, there's such a lot of it
[If there's such a thing as a comforting void, this is it. Quintet's been here all day, lounging, or sitting, or curled up into a comfortable crouch. She doesn't know what it is about this, the view, the stars, the endless down-down-down of it all, but she can't help but love it. Sure, there's nothing but a force-field between the inside of the hangar and the outside of the hangar, but that's for someone else to worry about. It works, is the important thing.]
It's so big. I wonder why they don't sparkle. [She's not stupid enough to reach out a paw and touch the interface between inside and out, but the urge is there, tempting. She looks up, hearing someone's approach.] Oh. Hey, come check this out. It's amazing stuff.