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[MiniKitty]

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Giants in the playground.

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I am about to pass out. I figured wearing the thermo softsuit would be enough to keep me warm, and a few days in bed would have done enough to get me back on my feet. It was wrong. Barely made it to the freeport.

Everything is spinning around me. I feel incredibly tired and whoozy. It is difficult to keep my balance. My breathing is heavy and audible. The mooring procedure feels like it takes an eternity. Luckily, it is automated. It is a habit that I stay in my seat, just to make sure everything goes well. It always does. The ship shakes once. Moored.

Tonight Freeport 11 will do. With Kimiko's voice lingering in my head. So familiar, yet so different. Harbinger's voice, too. Godlike, yet flawed. A god would not have selected something like Caliban to be his pawn. A god would not have selected Lazurith as a pawn. A god would be able to do as it pleases, without the need for a human as key.

Even worse, though, I hear this melody, this rhythm. It persists. In my head. I stand up, lock the controls and slowly make my way over to the bunk bed. And immediately drop. I roll on my back, grab the zipper at my neck and pull it down to free my chest. Breathing felt difficult, I had to do it. Growing up in the mines taught me to not expose my skin, not even when I sleep. A habit I never overcame. I always sleep clothed. I know Kristoff dislikes it. I know Madeleine and Monique dislike it. I cannot overcome this feeling of being unprotected. Something happens and I need to stand up. Cannot be naked.

And yet I free my chest, to breathe. Sucking in the filtered air of the Kay, filling my lungs. Exhaling, letting it all out. Slow and steady. I close my eyes. I pass out.

Aspen

Curacao

Kristoff

Crucible

Leviathan

Yoshiko

Harbinger

Kimiko

Vault

Caliban

*** -if- |They| -open- "The Graves" , |Most| -if not- |All| -will die- ***

Tell me about your friends, Levan.

One is a young man. He wants to prove his value to someone who does not care about him. He could have a silent, happy life with me. But he was brainwashed, to the point where he believes that what they all want from him is what he actually wants himself. I know it is not.

He lay in bed with me on Freeport 14, in our little room. I held him. He was clinging onto me as if nobody had ever given him a feling of sanctuary. I held him the entire night. Kept him warm. I held him.

Imagine how the world must have been to him when he chose me to provide sanctuary. I am a tiny bit smaller than him, and way more slim. I am bones and muscles. As silly as it sounds, the only thing suitable as a pillow might actually be the meat between my legs. And yet he kept clinging onto me like I was what he needed the most. And I believe I actually was. Not sure if I still am.




The other is a young-ish woman. Or was. She got a kick out of adventures. She loved to explore systems, look at anomalies, all that. Where other people chase for the sexual objects of desires, she was oblivious and chased thrills and mysteries. When she found out that my personality is fractured, she was intrigued. Not because of concern for me, but because of the scientific compent. A boy that has been abused for years, who developed another personality to hide what is broken beyond repair. Something that desperately tries to keep the boy from returning to Pittsburgh.

Call of the void.

But then she died. First she vanished for a long time. Then I got proof that she died. Audio logs about her final days, and one final log that contains her dying in agony. I listened to it over and over again. Over and over and over and over again. I was hoping to find a hint, something that would tell me she is not dead. Something that would prove that it was not her voice. There is none. I listened to her screams over and over again. I tortured myself to endure it. I cried, panicked, held my head. All the images my mind made up. What could it have been that killed her? What was it.

She died, alone. End of her story.







I had another friend. Extraordinary. In every way. In the most literal sense, not from this world. Proof of concept that there are no gods. Died and returned as space fish. Aspen warned me not to fall for her. Then she vanished and died. Now that friend is an alien, speaks in funny ways. She remembers me. But it is not the same anymore. She has moved on. Went with the flow.





I have you, Madeleine. You and Monique. One that could not be more simple-minded, and one that could not have more going on in her head. It all started out very simple. Sexual desire, attraction, a chain of opportunities. All good, all happy. Now I have feelings for both of you. Both of you, and still for him. Does that make sense? I hate it. Kimiko called me Eros. I guess that flattered me the same way calling her a butterfly goddess flattered her.

In reality, though, it makes things complicated. When it is more than just attraction, that is. I got myself into danger because of my feelings for him. And now he is in a position where he needs to choose.





Kristoff is a key. One of two. Harbinger said it himself. There is one person willing to become the key in his stead. But he wants to protect that person. It is hilarious. We all know that opening the Vault will result in a massacre. Death is certain for anyone who will be present. Harbinger laughs in our faces, fully able to destroy anyone getting in his way. Kristoff knows he will die. Still, he thinks he needs to do it. Otherwise, that person will die in his stead.

Feelings are in the way. And feelings are the only reason why this is so difficult for us. I cannot let go of him.

It the vault gets opened, we will all die.

Yah.




































Giants in the playground.

And you are just a pebble.

*** -if- |They| -open- "The Graves" , |Most| -if not- |All| -will die- ***

I am drowning with you, Aspen.

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