[center] [img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjhlOTgyYS5TbVZ5WlcxcFlXZywuMAAA/stencil-army-ww-i.regular.png[/img][/center] [center]--------------------------------⦽--------------------------------[/center] Jeremiah gulped in a large swallow of stale ship air. His eye’s shot open. He exhaled. He stared blankly at the ceiling, the blue flashes of the engine reflecting off the metal vault. A jolt of energy erupted from his chest and made his back curve off the cold floor, his whole body was tingling, fingers jerking in unordered response. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat shaking his body and rattling his brain, and yet all he could taste was cinnamon on his tongue. He sat up and held his head, a wave of euphoria heating his belly and chilling his limbs. He needed to do something. Sitting started to hurt, the energy was bouncing around under his skin, it needed to move, he needed to move. Jeremiah quickly scrambled to his feet, shockwaves of slow surreal happiness crept up his legs from the impact and whipped up a heated hurricane of energy inside his head. His muscles swelled as if he had been working out for hours but instead of sore pain all he could feel was lightening pleasure across his skin and in the core of each limb, he felt invincible. Suddenly he remembered the coordinates from the message; if anything it gave him something to do, something to move towards, something to satisfy his body's cravings… everyone should be too busy to notice him anyways. He looked over to his door, a wide grin on his face and a faraway voice screaming at him that this was a bad idea. He took a step and felt every vibration, his body complained when he stopped and sent another wave of energy through him, causing him to shift. Another step, another wave, he could feel the rub of his clothes, he could feel the ambience of the ship lights, he could feel the vibrations from the almost silent beeps from the computers and the hum of the engine, he could feel it all, and he swore he could even see it all. Another step. [i]Whoosh[/i] The door opened for him and his body began an eager pace towards the hanger, towards his little ship, every bit of will being used to keep himself from sprinting the whole way there and back. Step. He wondered how many others in this ship had to hold back so much at such a cost. Step. He wondered who else felt the pressure of keeping back the waters of the psyche and body from bursting into reality. Step. He wondered who else here struggled with such things. Step. He wondered if any of them enjoyed it. Step. He wondered if anyone hated that they enjoyed it. Step. He wondered if anyone hated that their body refused to hate it with them. Step. He wondered who else hated so much. Step. He wondered who else. Step. Cinnamon. Step. [i] I guess you never know how things look through other people’s eyes.[/i] [i] Whoosh[/i] The hanger doors opened for Jeremiah and he stepped through, a great chilling sight of relief exhaled somewhere in his head as the door closed behind him. Immediately the sight of Lynnette’s motorcycle ripped him from his thoughts, similar to how the cycle itself was ripped apart. Jeremiah walked up to the vehicle cautiously, in case Lynn was around. It wasn’t that he was scared of her, he just wasn’t sure if he should be, she was ex-government after all, and American no less: but then again so was he. He bit his lip, [i]I guess you really do never know how things look through other people’s eyes.[/i] His Omni-tool chirped and he looked down at his wrist, a green blip flashed and he brought it up to his face. He looked back at the motorcycle and scoffed, “Old enough to still have spark plugs, young enough to have an Engineer's interface computer installed.” Picking up a displaced wrench by the loose parts he leaned over the opened engine of the motorcycle and rhythmically got to work. The energy rolling through his body purred, content with doing something. [center]--------------------------------⦽--------------------------------[/center]