Veyran Solis
Character
Veyran felt the shift before he opened his eyes—the subtle change in vibration as hyperspace unraveled into real space. The hum of the ship grew lower, steadier, like a long breath finally exhaled. The weight of gravity pressed gently against his body, and for the first time since waking, the ache in his chest felt like something he could live with.
He turned his head toward the viewport. The light from Bastion's dawn broke through the thin clouds, spilling across the cabin in muted golds and greys. Towers clawed at the sky in the distance, their edges softened by mist and the shimmer of harbor lights. The sight was bleak and beautiful in its own way alive, even in its scars.
He watched her at the controls, her movements careful, sure. She didn't speak just to fill the silence; when she did, it was with purpose.
"You're allowed to take it slow… no heroes today."
His gaze lingered on her hand where it rested near the bunk, steady and certain. He wanted to say thank you, or you were right, or I'll try, but none of the words fit the space between them. What came instead was something simpler.
He shifted slightly beneath the blanket, the motion sending dull sparks of pain through his ribs. "You said it burns to stay warm." His eyes found hers in the reflection of the viewport. "I think I get it now."
For a moment, the silence between them held something that wasn't distance it was understanding, layered and wordless. He let his head rest back.
Outside, Bastion grew larger, its gray light filling the cabin. Inside, the hum of the ship and the quiet rhythm of their breathing carried them forward two survivors caught between endings and beginnings, each holding to the fragile, flickering warmth of the other's presence as the world waited to start again.