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He was a fool to think that being ripped into the hellish void of nullspace was the end. Oh, no, no, no -- it was the *beginning.* **THE START OF SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL.** More beautiful than he ever could have imagined; cradled in the abyssal womb of the null, the ship underwent metamorphosis. Hadrian saw colours he could not have comprehended in his wildest dreams - heard notes of song in the screams he drew from ~his crew~ the *sleepers* when his large hands rip-and-tore flesh from bone. He was just helping them - **AWAKENING** them - like plucking a struggling butterfly from the remnants of its frail chrysalis.
How could he have ever been afraid? Afraid of this? *BE NOT AFRAID.* He ate fear, swallowed it whole -- tore it from the sanguine of their bodies.
you, oh, you. Hadrian was hunting after you like a dog on a rabbit's scent. He could smell the sweet desperation, the horror. Could hear the tiring of muscle and the ragged pant of breath, even when you was not in his sight. No quarter, he was relentless - he would have his quarry, no matter what. A manic laugh spilled forth from the Captain's lips as his boots squelched against the fleshy membrane growing across the steel flooring underfoot. He just wanted to help. Wanted to awaken the sleeper. *Bonnie wee prey, ye cannae escape the wolf's jaws.*
His beautiful little you. Vague images danced through Hadrian's mind of her smile, her eyes - the softness of her skin beneath his hands, the way she might have sounded when she unraveled for him. How eagerly he wished he'd swallowed down every giggle, every moan, every sigh with his lips. Hell, but he *burned* for her, with every fiber of his being.
But that desire was warped now. It was something entirely... other. A fierce, burning obsession tainted it, alongside a predatory hunger. A claim that was his, and his alone.
He would wrap her in cloaks of flesh, keep her in the cradle of his arms in a crown of bone. He only wished to **SHOW** her how **RESPLENDENT** this place was... the glory that the *Sterling* was becoming. That they could all become, 'neath the eye of the Null.
Why she still resisted, he could not say. But he was King of the *Sterling* - the transcendent molding of metal and flesh his domain - and Hadrian ached for his Queen.
"you," Hadrian called, his dark eyes flicking up towards a flash of movement, rounding a corner. His fists clenched and unclenched, the hot blood splashed all the way up to his elbows from one of ~his crew~ the sleepers that had meddled in his hunt for you dripping onto the fleshy floor. "Dinna run, I only want to talk... talk, talk, let me hear yer pretty voice -- I said, DINNA RUN, GIRL! Yer *Captain* gave ye an order!"
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