Isolated

Kiruss hadn't put his foot down anywhere that wasn't a bulkhead on Pas La Fin in so long that he couldn't exactly pinpoint it to any specific date. In the pod, at his workstation, in the pod, observation deck, in the pod, in the a laboratory. It was an endless cycle. You could argue that he had been "out", but docking his ship up to some station in some system that he was never likely to visit again, not even leaving the pod because the system of decanting, washing, and dressing was too much effort for simply organizing contracts for James, it wasn't the same. Sure he had visited James now and again, but in holographic form, with his own feet still firmly chained on the tower, that last thought leaving Kiruss with a frown.

Katrina visiting had only further dug the idea into his mind that he might need to get out more, as her Buzzard left the staging tower, flinging itself across the system where she was going to risk around two dozen jumps of deep null-space just to get out. Kiruss couldn't help but envy her in some way, not for what the cluster had to offer, but for the feeling of not being contained to one system; envy for the fact that she could choose her own path again and again. It could be argued that she was separated from what she wanted though, giving her a reason to go back for not wanting to be separated any longer from what she loved, a romantic across the stars thought that brought a smile to Kiruss' face. Kiruss had duties, a home, and someone here for him. No reason to go back.

A lack of other capsuleers around when he was didn't help either, where was Kat? He was apparently producing results without Kiruss even being around, which was good, of course. But he was still missing that certain head-up-in-the-asteroid-belts mindset that the man had developed. It was refreshing, but lately their cycles seemed to have shifted for some reason, he would have to check in with him somehow.

So as Kiruss trudged along the halls, stretching his legs, he stopped to glance out of a window and past the hum of the forcefield bubble encasing the tower. He was suddenly overcome with a feeling of claustrophobia, not from the walls of the tower or the bubble of the forcefield, but of the vast expanses of this class five wormhole, a sense of irony running even with the claustrophobic fears. Trapped within a place that was supposed to be without boundaries.



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