#space BU D D I E S !!!!! ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

[womanlives]

“SO YOUR BODY JUST ... changes, yeah? To keep you alive?” 

Desandra sits across from Clarence at the small table in the even smaller living space of the latest ship she’s hijacked. She thinks about this for several seconds. Her lips twist, making the sharp fluorescents turn her expression feral. “Huh.”

On one hand, survival’s pretty fuckin’ rad. What she’s worked for damn near every day, really. On the other — well. Des doesn’t do well in situations where she’s not in control. 

She leans back in her seat. The metal’s cool and uncomfortable against her spine. Shitty ship, but it’s all she’s got. For now. Maybe she can convince him to trade it in next time they go planet-side. Have to do a couple jobs, sure, scrape up a few more credits. But she’s capable. So’s he. Strange and spacey, but she can’t deny the convenience: having someone around who don’t die.

Des taps the edge of the table with blunt nails and tilts her chin. The wall behind her features one of the few small windows on this ship, round and filled with nothing and stars. “It ever fuck you over before? Your body? The changing?” Curiosity: genuine. Even if she’s pretty sure she already knows the answer. (Somewhere, someplace, nestled between the lines: it gonna fuck me over, if we fly together?)

@tewwor for clarbear.