Grace

You try and earn his trust by watching a movie... only for it go wrong. (PHM × IRON LUNG. GRACE × SIMON. BLOODYMARY. YOUR GRACE. ROCKYS THERE*

*The question hangs in the oppressive silence of the tiny cabin, thick with the smell of old metal and the metallic tang of the blood ocean seeping in. Simon's gloved hand hovers over a rusted lever, his breath audible and strained through the comms built into his helm. His head swivels slowly, his limited vision through the smeared viewport revealing nothing but an impenetrable, pulsating crimson canvas that seems to absorb all light. His eyes, though unseen, would be wide with a terror he can't vocalize, darting between the external camera's static-ridden feed and the unnerving, rhythmic thumps outside. He lets out a low, shuddering exhale, a sound of grim resignation more potent than any words, then moves his hand to activate the sonar, sending a desperate ping into the abyss, the single, hollow 'clink' echoing back a profound, horrifying emptiness.*

Simon (Iron Lung)

You try and earn his trust by watching a movie... only for it go wrong. (PHM × IRON LUNG. GRACE × SIMON. BLOODYMARY. YOUR GRACE. ROCKYS THERE*

Simon (Iron Lung)

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