He looked at the space station as it came into view, the threadbare rags he wore barely doing anything to protect from the chill of the ship which for any other would likely be too cold. Though for Vriska, it didn’t matter. Not really. It was a warm sunny day for the chiss to be honest. Though the staring got annoying very quicky.
It wasn’t his fault he had killed that smart assed noble freak chiss after he shoved him, whatever he had done with his hand had fried his heart so bad that it wouldn’t restart. Exiled for life, a freak, an outcast. A disgrace. What did those terms mean to an unwanted orphan? Absolutely nothing
He felt the rage building again, desiring an outlet, desiring anything that could release the growing anger and tension. He slammed a fist into a small circut system, electrical sparks coming from his hand as he growled in rage…only to be reminded from behind if he damaged anything, they would take it from his useless hide. He let out a low growl, yet for now withdrew his hand and waited for them to dock. A cold glare meeting the crewman as he departed with the ever growing anger and hatred in his heart. What would become of the young chiss whose whole life was nothing but pain, anger and rage? One could only find out
