Ficlets

Andraste’s feet were nearly inaudible as they padded slowly down one of the long grey and blue metal corridors that wove their way through guts of the massive vessel. She wore only her sleepware, but her sword was still safely strapped in the sheath on her back, it’s presence calming her. She did not pause at the cafeteria, or stop to gaze out at the perpetual night that surrounded the ship as it slipped between the stars. Neither of those could offer her much comfort. The food felt as though it clung to her stomach like a heavy parasite. The stars, which some called heavenly, seemed more like another set of corridor lights which marked the boundaries of walls which kept her in. Kept her…contained.

She was not really claustrophobic, which was surprising, considering the size her cell had been in Dregory. But when the nightmares hounded her relentlessly and called to memory the suffocating shadows of that place, she went looking for the only place which made her feel free rather than bound.