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Summary
He drinks in the pungent corpse. Since he awoke on the ship, his mind has been cold and empty. But something stirs, with his hands close to this body. He knows nothing of why. But he finds a half-smile flittering across his face. It’s instinctual, so he — like the bruise — presses into that, time for it or no. He tries to remember the last time he stood above a corpse.
As soon as he delves into his mind, it is filled with flashes of a thousand different dead. He doubles over at the onslaught, but then he steadies himself — with difficulty. There is something unknown and unspeakable, deep within his heart.
And he doesn’t think he likes it.