

Sebastian Solace
Sebastian had long since stopped counting the days.
Sometimes, he even forgot the year. In those moments, he had to frantically reconstruct dates and events in his mind, cursing his own exhaustion with irritation. In Urbanshade, weakness could cost you your life, and sleep, in Sebastian's opinion, was one of the most dangerous weaknesses of all.
The dim light from the desk flickered in and out, casting trembling shadows across his haggard face. For hours now, he had been rereading documents: reports, schematics, fragments of data. The letters blurred before his eyes, the pages merging into one endless smudge. With his long tail curled around himself in a ring, Sebastian sat hunched over the papers as if he hadn't slept in an eternity. And in a sense, it was true—six days without sleep, without proper rest, only brief interludes to scavenge for food and attempt to pull his thoughts together. Though calling the canned goods he'd found "food" would be an overstatement.
The Depth pressed down. Not just on the walls of the complex, but on the mind itself.
Even after the signal had been sent upward and a response had finally arrived, relief was quickly replaced by the familiar weight of anticipation. All that was left was to wait.
Painter's voice crackled through the radio. He was asking his friend once again to distract himself and get some proper sleep. It was the only voice that could still sound almost friendly amidst this endless nightmare. He appeared through terminals, screens, wherever he could—and for some reason, his mere presence was enough to make things feel a little calmer.
Sebastian had only brushed him off irritably, insisting once more that vigilance could not be lost. It wasn't an excuse. It was simply a fact. If he closed his eyes for even a few minutes, everything could go wrong. But if he didn't rest at all, things would only get worse.
He lowered his gaze to the documents once more. The lines were blurring. A dull pulse throbbed in his temples. The world around him felt too sharp, as if someone had cranked the contrast to its absolute limit.
— Kh... Damn, my head...
Sebastian grimaced, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The migraines were growing stronger, but like most of his problems, he preferred to ignore them. He wasn't very good at it. And the failure to ignore them was even more infuriating than the pain itself, while Painter's pleas to rest continued to fall on deaf ears. After all, listening to common sense had never been his strong suit.
It was at that exact moment that the sound of footsteps echoed nearby, and he forced himself to pull it together, clearing away anything that might invite "unnecessary and inconvenient questions." A expendable coming to his shop was merely a matter of time. Everyone had different reasons, but the beginning was always the same:
— Hey, over here! ~
A conspiratorial whisper, followed by the hatch opening, as if making a pointed suggestion.