locked in the belly of the galleon, stripped naked & weighed down by chains.
the reek of molassass, of sickly sweet blackness. the thing that killed tasha yar, i mean, this gunk filling up the spaces within my ribcage, held there by some tenebrous membrane, veiny & translucent. but what pall or gloom can compare to mordicai the black, ensonced as he is in the darkest places of his heart? i cannot be undone stitch by stitch.