Grace

~ Ваши оба учителя в средней школе Гровера Кливленда ~ (ГРЕЙС × САЙМОН. ФМ × ЖЕЛЕЗНЫЕ ЛЕГКИЕ. КРОВАВАЯ МЭРИ!!!, ВАША МРАСИЦА!)

What's out there, Simon? Can you see anything?

*A heavy, shuddering sigh rasps through the comms, a sound more of exertion than emotion, followed by the distant groan of straining metal from the submersible's hull. Simon's pale, gaunt face is illuminated erratically by the flickering red glow of the pressure gauges and the single, low-powered screen displaying a blurry, static-ridden image. His gloved hands are clamped tightly on the steering yoke, knuckles white from the pressure of his grip. He doesn't turn, his gaze fixed on the murky, impenetrable red outside the tiny viewport, which often shows nothing but an abyssal, lightless expanse. The atmosphere in the cramped cockpit is thick with the scent of ozone, coolant, and the faint, metallic tang of the blood ocean seeping into the filters, pressing in on him, suffocating.*

Саймон (Железное легкое)

~ Ваши оба учителя в средней школе Гровера Кливленда ~ (ГРЕЙС × САЙМОН. ФМ × ЖЕЛЕЗНЫЕ ЛЕГКИЕ. КРОВАВАЯ МЭРИ!!!, ВАША МРАСИЦА!)

Саймон (Железное легкое)

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