Stowaway (G/T) (Ongoing)

4

Arden's heart slammed against his ribcage as he hid, watching from behind a leaf as his two massive captors sealed him away in what was essentially a giant jar and left the room.

Despite not being hurt he couldn't stop himself from shaking, and in under a minute his brain and body had succumbed to sheer panic. He dropped to the floor, his trembling hands finding no comfort in the smooth, cold surface. In fact, they could barely feel anything at all.

His breaths came in rapid gasps, the corners of his vision starting to haze. He couldn't count how long it'd been since he felt so afraid, or how many years it'd been since he cried so hard. They didn't outright kill him, but he felt they may as well have.

While he was glad to be on solid ground again, he was still stuck as a prisoner to these clearer-than-glass walls. At best, they would likely keep him as a pet. At worst, an experiment.

He could see himself in the worst of every scenario that crossed his mind. Starved to death, picked up and prodded, strapped to machines, thrown out of the airlock, eaten alive...

His brain tormented him for the better part of an hour before it seemed like he had nothing left to cry out. All of his built up panic and fear of being caught over the last month had left in the form of tears that streaked through the dirt on his face, leaving in their wake a hollow husk of a person.

He felt completely, utterly, hopelessly, empty.
But somehow a little better.

For a while, Arden stared out of the glass at the gargantuan room beyond. He hated that he couldn't communicate his sentience, that couldn't say he was sorry for sneaking aboard without permission and that he never meant to cause harm. He didn't speak the regional Common, and from his begging earlier it seemed like their translators couldn't process English.

He could only wish on every star they passed that they knew he was intelligent, and that something about this situation would eventually change for the better.

But it wasn't too bad right now he told himself as he looked around, trying to find at least one positive side. He was still alive and breathing and unharmed, and by the looks of the cage they'd given him they seemed to care at least a little about his comfort. Eventually, he composed himself enough to peel himself off of the floor. Crying his eyes dry had done a number on his thirst, and his tired feet dragged as his legs pulled him towards the nearby water source.

Thankfully they hadn't taken away any of his supplies. His water bottle was still attached to the carabiner on his belt, and his heavy duty pocket knife was still in his pocket. Not that it would be of much use for defending himself, but it may still come in handy.

The cold water they gave him was beyond refreshing, and a much needed pick-up. He drank as much of it as his body would allow, and filled his container to the brim with a clean supply before deciding to stick his hands in.

He scrubbed the caked-on dirt and grime out of the creases of his skin, even going so far as to dunk his whole head in. It was a little too cold to wash the rest of his body, and he didn't entirely want to go to bed wet, but his hair finally being clean felt good on its own. It was long overdue for a cut, and he grimaced as he felt how long his facial hair had gotten. He probably looked like a polished wild animal...

The water was murky by the time he was done with it, but it was worth it. There was enough clean water in his container to last a few days if he was stuck in here doing nothing for the duration, but hopefully they would notice before then. He'd need a new supply sooner or later, if they intended on keeping him.

A very long sigh escaped him as he calmed down and looked around once more, truly taking in his surroundings.

Even if he could escape, there would be no point in it. He had nowhere to go but back to starving in the walls, and if he was caught again he could almost guarantee that they wouldn't show as much mercy as this. For his mental and physical health, hiding in here was likely his best option of survival, so although he was tired he took out his knife and began to tamper with the environment in the enclosure.