Angel Youngs Dred !!hot!! -

The air in the Dredge was always thick, tasting of copper and recycled oxygen, but Angel Youngs barely noticed it anymore. She stood at the helm of the Rusty Vein , her knuckles white against the control yoke, watching the pressure gauges tremble.

That’s the Dred part, too. Not the fear of darkness—but the kindness of sitting in it with someone. angel youngs dred