send ‘!!’ and I’ll write a para description of your muse from mine’s perspective. || @spacestreetrat || selectively accepting.
Khan knows when he doesn’t deserve something.
He’s selfish to a point, there’s no denying that. He believes that he’s owed the world that took him in and spit him out bruised, bloodied, and better. He believes this for his people. The Augment Prince finds the universe lacking in ways that do no benefit him-- but he knows that sacrifice and sin are kin and kine. Blood stains the tips of his fingers, down to the bone. Where regret lies neglected, he still pockets the key.
For every bit of tooth and nail, she’s still fragile in her own way, still pure. She’s been scorned by the galaxy, but she’s still whole. In his eyes, in his mind, she should be conquering worlds instead of listening to the stories he recites of dead kings and the philosophies of outdated societies. He wonders if he’s holding her back. Thoughts that haunt him like gloom and ghost in the stillness of night, reminding him that he’s already slept far too long, that will never leave the prison of his lips. He’ll cut out his own tongue first.
Even then, pride swells like the tide as she learns and imitates his habits without realizing. She pilots like him, she kills like him, she leads like him, and she’s better than her chains-- just like him. Adulthood is fast approaching and he’s just about taught her everything he knows (not even close) and he wonders if she’ll stay or if she’ll leave her mark across the galaxy and start a legacy of her own. Khan wonders more and more as time goes on, as both of their scars heal. But there is one certainty, one constant that the universe cannot steal from him:
