[Even after the whirlwind of the past few weeks on Primavera, Cain hasn't found that he's adjusted to the sheer magnitude of greenery and colorful flora present in Sumarlokβon Noctium at largeβdisplaced from the everyday-grey of military life in space, and before that, the barren cold of New Volga. It doesn't make him less homesick. If anything, his bizarre and alien surroundings serve to further drive in the nail of truth: that he is alone, far away from his own universe and everyone within it, and he is not likely to get back soon. Maybe that realization should be freeing. Cain can only endure a persistent sense of dread, looking back on his most recent actions and how they've paved the way toward an even worse reality.
He's never going home.
At some point, wandering familiar avenues around the transit station from the islands following his return, Cain notices a rich, musky, floral scent as the tepid breeze picks up. He sniffs the air a few times, head turning to catch sight of a few of the Hanara gems en route to Primavera. Then they're gone. It's such an unremarkable encounter that, an hour later, he doesn't make any connection between their presence and the sudden onset of physical symptoms he begins to experience.
Dizzy and lightheaded, his eyes are drawn to a vivid path through a nearby garden, altered vision warping pale blue flecks into what resembles a flowing stream of light. He is immediately enraptured. Night has set in, tinting sky a deep blue shade bleeding blacker as time wears on, so that his own dark silhouette slips easily into shadow up the trail. Only the rhythmic pattern of bootheels will be heard.
When Cain reaches the end, he is confronted with a wide and shallow canal shaded by tall, leaning trees, its glassy surface like an oil slick in the dark. The area is deserted. Four moons above, each in separate phases of waxing and waning, cast strange, stilted shadows that confuse his sense of awareness as he approaches the bank. He feels his heart leap into the tight knot of his throat, hammering hard and frantic at the last memory that confronts himβwater closing cold and airless above his head, sucking him down into its endless depth, filling lungs.
Emboldened, Cain splashes forward and into the canal with a snarl:] Hey, fuck you, water! You're not gonna fucking kill me!
[Except his balance is wrong, or something is off, because he immediately loses his footing and crashes onto hands and knees with a gasping shout of panic. The water is so shallow it barely levels with broad shoulders, yet Cain thrashes in blind terror despite that, screaming his head off like an idiot.]
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@wickedly
He's never going home.
At some point, wandering familiar avenues around the transit station from the islands following his return, Cain notices a rich, musky, floral scent as the tepid breeze picks up. He sniffs the air a few times, head turning to catch sight of a few of the Hanara gems en route to Primavera. Then they're gone. It's such an unremarkable encounter that, an hour later, he doesn't make any connection between their presence and the sudden onset of physical symptoms he begins to experience.
Dizzy and lightheaded, his eyes are drawn to a vivid path through a nearby garden, altered vision warping pale blue flecks into what resembles a flowing stream of light. He is immediately enraptured. Night has set in, tinting sky a deep blue shade bleeding blacker as time wears on, so that his own dark silhouette slips easily into shadow up the trail. Only the rhythmic pattern of bootheels will be heard.
When Cain reaches the end, he is confronted with a wide and shallow canal shaded by tall, leaning trees, its glassy surface like an oil slick in the dark. The area is deserted. Four moons above, each in separate phases of waxing and waning, cast strange, stilted shadows that confuse his sense of awareness as he approaches the bank. He feels his heart leap into the tight knot of his throat, hammering hard and frantic at the last memory that confronts himβwater closing cold and airless above his head, sucking him down into its endless depth, filling lungs.
Emboldened, Cain splashes forward and into the canal with a snarl:] Hey, fuck you, water! You're not gonna fucking kill me!
[Except his balance is wrong, or something is off, because he immediately loses his footing and crashes onto hands and knees with a gasping shout of panic. The water is so shallow it barely levels with broad shoulders, yet Cain thrashes in blind terror despite that, screaming his head off like an idiot.]