Turn of the Tides: Ch 1
Rating: T
TW: Brief mentions of tubes, paralysis, being bound down (NOT IN A NSFW SENSE PLS AND THANK YOU), small mentions of scars, food, etc etc
Read at your own risk :3
Word count: 5.2k - first person
BEFORE YOU READ
*I DO NOT CONDONE MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, USED TO TRAIN AI, OR OTHERWISE BE REPOSTED*
Please enjoy!!
I groan as I feel my eyelids spasming. They’re trying to open, I know they are, but it's not working. It’s like I’m stuck in a messed up nightmare, where I'm both completely aware of the outside world and yet am still paralyzed within.
“Eye movement detected” says a monotone voice.
The hell?
“What color comes from red and blue?” It asks.
Okay. Nope. Not doing this. I’ve seen Terminator and I’m not opting to die. I refuse to be that character in a horror film.
...
Okay I haven’t actually seen Terminator, so that reference was probably way off track. I don’t really know how I know that. Any of it. I have no idea where I am, what’s going on, and worst of all? The more I lay here with my eyes shut, thinking, the more I realize that I can’t even remember who I am. My name, my age, my identity as a whole? They’re all foreign to me.
I start to hyperventilate, panic setting in to my bones.
"Irregular breath movement detected." says the voice. Something removes, at least what I assume is, an oxygen mask from me. There's a rush of cool air over my face and I take control over my lungs.
Okay, okay I try to steady myself. You've had this freaky dream paralysis happen before. It’s probably just a nightmare, so the first step is to open our eyes.
I strain my eyelids in an attempt to open them. It’s harder than I’d care to admit, but eventually my eyes do open with a wild, full body jerk. Not dissimilar to how your body reacts when you have a “falling” sensation while drifting into stage one sleep. Hypnic jerk, I end up remembering, though I couldn't tell you how I knew that.
“Full body movement detected” comes the voice again. “What color comes from red and blue?”
I blink. The light is harsh, white , and blinding. Holy hell, it’s so bright that it takes my body several minutes to adjust to it even after I snap my eyes shut again. When it does eventually adjust, I take notice of my, albeit slightly blurry, surroundings. I’m in white room, sterile white, and it’s extremely clean to match. Am I in a hospital?
No, it’s quiet. Too quiet. Hospitals are usually loud with different series of beeping, footsteps, crash carts, and talking. Sometimes sobbing or screaming. But here? Only a quiet hum can be heard with the occasional whizzing sound. No beeping. No voices. And no footsteps.
As feeling starts returning to my body I notice a few uncomfortable sensations. Firstly, straps. Padded straps are all over my body, effectively pinning me down. Second… tubes. And they are all over my body. IVs, EKGs and EMSs, tubes in my arms, tubes in my legs, and other tubes stuck... in other places, but I elect to ignore that.
Okay, all of these are signs that something has been keeping me alive, but that doesn't explain why I'm strapped to the bed. Or why I was being kept alive in the first place, for that matter. Was I experiencing psychosis? Was I a danger to the nurses? Wait, speaking of nurses- if I can't hear any other people, then what was keeping me alive?
I glance up and have a near panic attack. Two robotic arms with four rubber grips on the ends, ‘fingers’ I assume, and a camera in the center. I try to move the rest of my body, but nothing comes of it. I’m paralyzed from my shoulders down, leaving control only from my neck up. Well, even if I could move my body, the straps would still have kept me pinned regardless.
The arms move towards me and I try to thrash. Again, nothing. They quickly removed most of the tubes from my body, leaving only the IV. My god am I glad I’m strapped to this table, because the probability of me thrashing and really hurting myself during the removal was incredibly high given the size of some of those tubes.
I relax, well to the best of my abilities, back into the bed. Which I just realized; I’m on a bed, but whatever.
Okay, let’s assess everything.
I’m alone, at least from what I can tell, in a blindingly white room, strapped to a bed, with two robotic arms above me watching my every move. There’s no nurses, no hospital sounds, and all signs point towards the fact that the robot arms of death have been keeping me alive.
Right, normal stuff, okay. I could be sick, but that just doesn’t feel right in my mind. My sister is a nurse, so I have my fair share of hospital experience, but the hospital she works at is nowhere near fancy enough to even fathom robot arms.
Ah… so I can remember I have a sister and that her hospital didn't have robots, but not move my body? Or remember anything else about me for that matter, like where I am or what's happening or what my freaking name is. Lovely.
And by lovely I mean it's incredibly frustrating.
“What color comes from red and blue?” Comes the voice. I’m guessing it’s the arms. More so the system controlling the arms.
I try to speak, but nothing comes from it. My throat is dry and scratchy and oh so very sore. Most likely from an endotracheal tube for breathing and a NG tube for feeding. The robot probably removed those at first signs of consciousness, and replaced it with the oxygen mask.
“Augh” is all that comes from my mouth. I’m trying to say ‘water’ but instead it’s simply a gargled throaty sound. Great, real effective.
“Incorrect. What color comes from red and blue?”
Okay so we’re doing a quiz to, what I am hoping will be, freedom. Great. Fun. Just what I want to do. But anything is better than staying strapped to this damn bed.
“Purgh-“ I slur. Progress, in my eyes. I actually managed to make a “puh” sound.
“Incorrect. What color comes from red and blue?”
I slow my breathing, really focusing on how talking works and wetting my throat. I can’t move my limbs so might as well focus my energy on what I can move.
“Purruhple” I slur. God it’s like I’m drunk, which is ridiculous and humiliating.
“Correct.”
Oh thank God.
“What symbol represents Gibbs Free Energy?”
Wait a minute I know that. That’s easy chemistry. Am I a scientist?
I again focus on my breathing and work to wet my throat some more before speaking.
"G” I say. Could I not have gotten this as the first question?
“Correct.”
When the arms back off, I relax, thumping my head back onto the bed. I’m absolutely exhausted now. It's humiliating, really, that the simple act of trying to talk has zapped so much energy from my system, but I don't have much time to dwell on it as I pass out soon after.
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Every scientist even remotely connected to the astronomy world in any way knew about the Petrova line and the mysterious IR light it emits. Myself included. What started as an email from Doctor Irina Petrova of Russia, which was quickly confirmed by many other astronomers from several hundred countries, quickly spiraled into organized chaos as astronomers started realizing something was dimming the sun bit by bit. In a consistent manner too. It was… not great. Very not great.
That was followed up by the JAXA announcement of said dimming, which led several nations of the world to fund the creation of Project ArcLight- a probe they were going to send to Venus to collect samples of whatever made up the Petrova line. It would then bring that sample back to us for testing. It was as cool as it was terrifying.
I stride across the floor of my sister’s kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal. I almost trip over one of my cats while I’m at it, who is ironically enough named Venus. My three other cats were asleep on the couch. I had elected to stay with my older sister, London, and her wife Azalea at their home in the Florida Everglades while my boss, Dr. Rema, and I studied some of the microbes from there.
I sit down on the couch to eat my cereal and watch the current report on the ArcLight when June, London and Azalea's eleven year old daughter, runs in. I preemptively turn the TV up a touch.
“What’s going on with the Petrova line and the sun?” she asks, leaning over the back of the couch, kicking it slightly, causing my cereal to slosh a bit in my hands. “Is it actually being dimmed?”
June has always been intelligent and curious, taking a specific interest in space. London claims it’s because of me, seeing as I was only 13 when June was born. Given our somewhat close age gap, June immediately clung to me and all of my interests.
However, I’ll always disagree with London on that matter, regardless of my passion or our connection. London has always been incredibly smart and I've always looked up to her. I look up to her even now. She's my big sister, after all.
“I’m watching the report on it right now if you’d like to watch with me.”
June happily nods, launching herself over the back of the couch to plop down rather hard beside me. This effectively scared off my three other cats, Sirius, Polaris, and Charlie. Charlie glares, hopping onto her window perch, while Sirius and Polaris tear down the hallway, with Venus tearing after them. June giggles at the cats' antics before laying down on my lap, facing the television.
The reporter was currently talking to Dr. Browne of NASA, who was explaining the Petrova line problem and aspects of Project ArcLight. All very interesting stuff. ArcLight was in Venus’s orbit and collecting samples of whatever was in the Petrova line. It would then do a basic analysis of the samples, send in photos, and start its return to Earth.
When the first orbit had been completed, data started to come in. I leaned in expectantly. The first image from ArcLight came on screen, which showed black dots. Then came another. Then another. There's a surprised curse from the background on the TV and Dr. Browne is completely enamored. Sounds start to drown out. I was staring, mouth agape. I couldn’t hear anything from my own fixation on the screen. The separate images played in succession and-
Holy. Shit. They were moving. MOVING. Like little microbes. Holy shit- were they little alien space microbes?
The next few moments were chaos; my phone rang, June was shouting at me, London came into the room to ask about the yelling, and I'm rushing off the couch to get to my phone. I trip on the couch leg, and absolutely eat shit from my socked feet slipping on the hardwood. It thoroughly bruises my hip but I quickly shake it off.
I picked up the phone. It was Dr. Rema.
“You saw all of that right?” she practically shouts into my left ear.
“Uh yeah!” I exclaim. “Kinda hard not to”! I go to say more things when my father starts calling. “Ah one moment-” I quickly hung up and accept my dad’s call.
“Dad, you saw that right!” was the very first thing I said.
“Where are you right now?”
Odd question, sure. But it didn’t really matter at that moment. “Everglades with London, Azalea, June, and Dr. Rema. Why do you ask?”
“Pack your stuff. Don’t ask questions. Iggy will pick you lot up at 6am tomorrow morning.” He states with all of the professionalism of an ex-air force officer. Iggy was a friend of my dad’s. "And don't worry about the cats. I'll have someone watch them."
“Alirghttt” I drag the last syllable out some.
“Be prepared to be put to work.” he says before hanging up.
---------------------------
I groan and slowly blink as I wake back up. I'm still strapped to the bed, but am feeling somewhat better. Less groggy.
I noticed that feeling had returned to my limbs, and I was finally able to move them. I slowly wiggle my fingers and stretch my ankles. I hurt. My ankles crack and pop loudly, and my fingers ache.
"Hand and foot movement detected" said the robot.
One of the robot arms lowers itself towards me, and I just watch it. It slowly starts to undo the straps that are keeping me pinned to the bed, and it's like it was watching for any sudden movements.
Eventually all the straps were removed and I rubbed the slightly raw stripes left on my body. I move to sit up, groaning in pain. My ribs ache, my knees hurt, my shoulders are sore, the list goes on forever, but I do successfully sit up.
"Fully body movement detected" says the bot. One of the arms places a red velvet case down next to me. I open it- it's a pair of glasses. My glasses- so I can see. I place them on my face, and blink a few times. Hurrah, I have now successfully accessed 20/20 vision.
"What is your name?"
Ah, more guessing games. I decided to put that on the back burner to instead stretch, and holy crap. My wrists, shoulders, hips, elbows, and even my spine all pop at once. I curl in on myself, groaning in pain after a rather harsh curse.
"Distress detected" says the bot, but I wave it off.
"No, no, I'm fine-" I'm really not, but I'm also not looking to learn what nurse bot does in moments of "distress". It apparently accepted that answer because the arms backed off some.
I sat back up, fully this time. I have to admit, I do feel better now that my joints have popped. Okay, time to re-assess my situation.
One, I'm in a mystery room. I could be sick, but signs just aren't pointing that way. Two, there doesn't appear to be any other life forms here, just me and nurse bot. Three, I just had a memory pop up, and though most information wasn't useful it was still information pertaining to me. Maybe more sleep is needed to have these memories pop up? Thought I'm not entirely sold on that theory.
I notice the IV still in my arm, and I elect (against my better judgment) to rip it out. I didn't want any mystery serums to be injected into my body. I hiss out air from my teeth in pain. The good news is there's no bleeding beyond a small streak at the entry point, which is to be expected.
Okay what's step one? I have two paths; try and figure out where I am or try and figure out who I am.
"What is your name?" Nurse bot asks again, the hands inching towards me.
Okay, secret third option: avoid Nurse bot and find a way out of this room-
I hop off the bed. Okay, hop is a strong term because the moment I swing my legs towards the edge of the bed, it gives a harsh rock. This causes me to, ungracefully, slip off the edge of the bed. My feet hit the floor, and being unprepared while also still getting full body function back, I slip and fall. I curse when I hit the floor, having knocked my hip rather hard.
"Physical distress detected."
I yelp and roll away, opting to hide under the bed like a stubborn child. Okay add naked, cold, and trying to avoid a robot to my list of issues. I look around the room again now that I have my glasses. Again, it's still blindingly white with Nurse bot in the center of the ceiling. There's a flimsy wall across from me- wait…
That might not be a wall. But I decided to investigate that at a later time. And the cabinets and drawers across from my bed are locked up. Probably so only the bot could get into them.
I need to focus. Step one- find clothing. I am butt booty naked right now and it's making me vaguely uncomfortable. I decided to observe my body to try and notice things about myself. Anything that might trigger some more memories so I can gather information about myself.
One, I'm rather curvy for someone who's supposedly sick. So I'm ruling being sick out entirely, because I just know that somebody sick enough to need a robot to care for them just doesn't look like this. So why was I hooked up to all of those tubes?
Another thing are the white scars that adorn my body. The only reason I notice them at all is because they stand out against the red marks the straps left on me and they're all over. They're on both of my arms, both my legs and are all sorts of shapes and sizes. I did remember having cats, so my best guess is that a lot of the scars are from cats. Or craft mistakes? And circle scars? That could be anything. However, the scar that stood out to me most was the rather large scar on my leg. It was white, patchy, and flat, meaning it was old, but still. Something about it irked me for some reason.
Okay, clothing and escape.
As I observe the walls again, I notice a ladder leading up to a hatch. Hatch? Why a hatch? Am I at sea? Am I in a submarine?
As I scan, I notice that the floor is made up of panels. However, I notice an odd gleam from one of the panels. A seam, most likely leading to storage! It wouldn’t lead to anything mechanical since it’s directly below a living space. That’s just not how that works.
I crawl over to the panels, hoping Nurse bot can't reach me.
I was wrong.
It could reach me. And next thing I knew I was asleep again.
--------------------------------
As planned, Iggy was at my sister’s house at 6am on the dot. No sooner but no later. Dr. Rema had arrived only 10 minutes earlier. All of us had our backpacks, suitcases, and carry ons, making for a very cramped car. Iggy drove us 45 minutes south to a private airport where my father was waiting for us all.
We boarded a private jet, which was not an odd scenario in comparison to the bizarrity of everything else. We often flew places on jets with our father around since driving was such a pain and my dad was known to pull some strings. I'm sitting in the middle of a rather large couch-like seat, Dr. Rema on my left and June on my right. London, Azalea, and my dad, Captain Calloway Turner, were in the seats facing us.
"So where are we going, Buck?" asks June. Buck is what she calls mine and London's dad. He claimed ‘grandad’ or anything like that just didn’t fit.
"Arizona" he responds, tapping on his computer.
"Why Arizona?" asks London.
"Kitt Peak?" asks Dr. Rema.
"Not sure." he responds. "Kitt Peak does have multiple research telescopes, but I'm not sure what the end goal of everything is." He muses. "All I know is that a colleague of mine asked for you lot," he gestures to me, London, and Azalea "-specifically" he explains, not looking up from his computer.
"Why me?" I ask. I have so many questions.
“She feels you are best suited for whatever she’s doing.” he sighs.
"Who’s ‘she’” asks Dr. Rema.
“That’s classified information until we get there.”
“That’s bull” sulks June, resulting in a scolding from London.
"We don't use those words June, you know that."
“So,” I interrupt the familial bickering, “if she just wants me, why is everyone else here?” I ask. “No offense” I smile apologetically.
My dad shuts his laptop. “Technically she’s not looking for just you, so don’t go getting a big head about things.”
I put my hands up playfully. “I wasn’t gonna!”
He gives me a look that screams ‘I’ve known you for 25 years, yes you were’. “Anyways, she wants London, Azalea and even Paris for something else”
“Aunt Paris?” asks June excitedly.
“But Azalea and I are in the medical field.” states London. “What good is a nurse at an astronomy observation tower? It’s like throwing a fish into a tree.” She pauses. “And Paris? She’s a molecular biologist with a PhD in agriculture. She knows essentially nothing about astronomy-”
Our dad shrugs. “I wasn’t given that information, so there's no guarantee we're even going to Kitt Peak. All I have are the requests.”
The rest of the flight is rather silent. A lot of information was either classified until we got there or was just something my dad didn’t know the answer to.
---------------------
My memory-dream is cut short as a medium-sized aluminum tube is placed on my chest, effectively startling me awake. I jolt, causing the tube of whatever to fall off my chest and roll onto the floor. Nurse bot looks (can it look?) at me before grabbing the tube off the floor and placing it next to me.
"Eat." says the nurse bot.
"Not hungry"
"Eat"
I was sick to my stomach. The last thing I could even fathom doing was opening and eating whatever was in the mystery tube of doom. I was still naked and cold, and all I wanted was to get some damn clothing and get out of this room. But I also wasn’t about to walk around wherever I was naked.
“Open storage." I demand.
“Access milestone not yet reached. Eat.”
Are you kidding me? What milestone is required to access the freaking storage?
“Open! Storage!” I demand again.
“Access milestone not yet reached. Eat.”
I groan, but grab the tube of food anyways. It says Day 1 Meal 1. I unscrew the cap and hesitantly sniff. It smells… good! It actually smells good, whatever it is. I push some of the goop to bubble at the tip of the container. It’s a brown-ish, gloppy substance, not unlike vomit.
And just like that, good feeling’s gone-
“Oh, yeah, no I think I’d rather starve-”
“Eat.” says Nurse Bot.
Okay so my options are to either; starve while naked and cold or to eat the mystery texture of doom.
I groan, but hesitantly lick the bubble of goop. Taste wise it’s alright, not dissimilar to gravy you’d get at a mom and pop diner. But, like gravy at a mom and pop diner, it is texturally HORRIBLE. I gag and cover my mouth with my hand, fighting to swallow the substance. After the first few bits are swallowed, my stomach gives a violent growl. It was now sending hunger cues to my brain, and suddenly this goop of doom seemed like the best thing in existence. I rapidly squeeze more into my mouth in small dollops, to help prevent myself from gagging, until the entire tube is empty.
“Meal complete.”
My stomach aches a little from the sheer speed I consumed the tube, but it subsides rather quickly. I feel significantly better now. I’m much warmer and my brain seems to be working at the proper frequency. I’ve now successfully eaten without assistance. Maybe-
“Open storage” I say, praying for a response.
“Unsealing storage.”
I happily kick my legs. “Yes!!”
The panel I had previously spotted unsealed from the floor with a hiss and a small handle raised up from said panel. I quickly hopped off the bed, properly staying on my feet this time, and practically skipped over to the panel. I pull on the handle and lord it’s much heavier than it looks. Maybe I was just weak from my time in, well, wherever I am.
Inside the storage are loads of white, rectangular fabric bags. Most of the bags had a name tag attached to it. Seeing as I am unable to remember my own name, I decided to play by process of elimination.
First, what can I deduct about myself?
Well, for one I have breasts and a vagina. So I’m assigned female at birth. Oh right, but I use gender neutral pronouns. I remember from an earlier memory that my dad used 'they' for me alone, which feels right. So I’m non binary? Maybe? Regardless, I have a father who is accommodating for things beyond social norms, making it more likely I live in a country more accepting of those things? That or I just have the greatest dad ever.
Two, I think and speak in fluent English. So the probability of me being from a primarily English-speaking country is extraordinarily high.
I yank out one of the bags. The name tag reads “姚”. Yao. I don’t know how I know that, but regardless it’s a Chinese symbol. I can tell I’m not Chinese. I can’t think in Chinese, much less speak it. So I toss that bag to the side.
The next bag I yank out reads “Илюхина”. Ilyukhina. Russian. Like with Yao, I don’t know how I’m able to read the name, and like with Chinese, I can’t think or speak in Russian. So I toss that bag to the side too. Only two other names remain; Indigo and Grace. Oohkay- so that’s less easy to figure out. Both are in English and both are traditionally feminine names. They could be last names, but whose last name is Indigo? And Grace? Arguably one of the most common first names, especially among religious individuals, from my personal experience.
Wait, they aren’t last names. At least they aren't my last name. I remember my last name! From my memory. My dad is Captain Calloway Turner, meaning that Turner is my last name! Okay, let’s work from there. If Turner is my last name, maybe I can figure out my first name by comparing the two other names with my last name. One of them is bound to sound better.
First; Grace Turner. Okay that sounds incredibly plausible.
Indigo Turner. Okay, that sounds just as plausible. I go back and forth between the two.
Grace Turner.
Indigo Turner.
Grace Turner.
Indig-
--------------
Tucson International Airport was where we landed. It's the closest airport to Kitt Peak, so despite the nearly 5 hour flight we still had a roughly 90 minute drive ahead of us.
Well assuming that's where we were going-
Two large, black SUVs were waiting on the runway for us. Each SUV had two agents waiting by them, all sporting identical suits with earpieces.
Once off the jet, we were immediately ushered toward the cars by two of the agents while the other two went to grab our luggage. My father, London, Azalea, June and I all squeezed into the one car while Dr. Rema sat alone in the other. Originally June was supposed to be in the same car as Dr. Rema, but Azalea had some formal complaints about her daughter being alone in a car with a, to them, stranger. So the agents let June ride in the car with us.
Once buckled in, off we went without a second thought. The ride itself was… rather uneventful. June ended up falling asleep against her moms in the backseat, and London and Azalea were talking in hushed voices. My father and I were in the row in front of them, typing on our respective devices. The agents didn’t speak to us, but that was to be expected. My dad appeared to be messaging someone and I, nosy as ever, tried to sneak a glance.
“Eyes on your own test Indigo-” my dad teases.
I quickly divert my gaze. “Sorry, just curious about who you’re texting.”
“That’s classified.”
I sigh deeply. “Everything is classified. This is boring.”
My dad chuckles. “Kiddo, enjoy the ‘boring’ while you can. Because, if I had to guess, your life is about to become very busy.”
“How so? And don’t say classified!”
“But alas, that is also classified. But you will learn more once we get to our destination.”
I groan and thump my head against the headrest, looking out the window. The scenery was… lackluster. Mostly the sides of dirt hills and mountains.
When we finally stopped driving, we were not at Kitt Peak, but rather a temporary set up with a multitude of white buildings and dozens of agents. I'm not stupid. Whatever this is has to do with the government.
We hopped out of the cars and stretched our limbs, watching the car with Dr. Rema and our luggage pull in. Three of the agents quickly unloaded our surplus of luggage onto the dusty ground, while one spoke to my father. Then they hopped back into their respective vehicles and drove off. Then two new agents approached us.
“Turner family and guests, please follow us.” One said.
We walked for a while until we were standing in front of a group of cabin-like housing. Once the agents with our luggage arrived, one of the agents handed my dad a sheet of paper before they, too, took their leave.
My dad claps his hands and all eyes focus on him, save for Dr. Rema who is on the phone with somebody else. It's an old family quirk.
"Alright gang, this is where we'll be staying during our duration. I've been informed that my colleague will be flying in sometime later this week. In the mean time, we are welcome to do whatever we'd like inside of this set up."
"When's aunt Paris gonna get here?" asks June.
"Supposedly tonight" my dad responds. "But for now let's get this luggage inside"
------------------------
I blink, eyes slightly blurry with tears.
Indigo Turner.
My name is Doctor Indigo Turner.
I yank out the bag with my name on it and unzip it, throwing open the top. There's an array of items inside, varying from electronics to photos to even stuffed animals. Though, on the very top of the items, sat three envelopes. They read;
From London
From Paris
From June
They were letters from my sisters and my niece. More tears form at the corners of my eyes and I haphazardly wipe them away. I set the letters to the side, I can't mentally handle reading them right now. I do the same with the large, thick photo album. It's purple and has my name engraved on it in gold.
I dig through the bag and pull out more stuff. The first a stuffed rabbit, tie dyed with shades of blue, purple, green, and a hint of brown. Not unlike a nebula. I remember her. She's my stuffie. London bought her for me as a graduation gift.
I pull out some more things; vacuum sealed bags of yarn, crochet hooks, a journal and pens, a pink blanket adorned with cats, a hand held gaming console, chargers, even loads and loads of different snacks! But no clothing.
I yank out another bag with my name. This one has clothing in it. I grab the first tank top, pair of shorts, bra, socks, and underwear I see, all of which happen to be basic black athletic wear. I dress myself and hop to my feet. Alright, now I feel loads better!
My next step? It's time to exit my current confinements.
A/N: AHHHH IT'S FINALLY DONE GOOD GOD. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Turn of the Tides! This little universe of Indigo's is a mix between the PHM movie and book since both are near and dear to me and I can't pick just one.
However that means there will be lots of chapters given the nature of the book xD
I hope you stick around for Indigo's journey and I hope you enjoy :3
-Sickey
