@sweetbaku
Mantis was never much of a sleeper. There was always too much background interference, the endless tittering of other minds building a cacophony of noise that only he could hear. Even at his calmest and quietest, sleep did not often grace him, and he did not complain-- he’d rather let his body crumble than face any of the night terrors that waited for him.
In the Hive, there was no background noise. No thoughts beyond his own to keep him awake-- just silence. For the first time in decades, Mantis was truly alone in his head.
Yet he could not sleep.
Perhaps it was too quiet, or perhaps he missed the comfort of a psychic link long detached; no one could say for certain. Mantis flitted through the dark and empty streets like a lost ghost, his body sagging in the air and practically dragging on the ground-- he might as well have been walking.
He was beyond exhausted, but, hey, what else was there to do?
