Who: Peter
When: After his week in Zero
Where: Zero, then sporadically around the ship, and cabin 516
What: Peter loses something
Warning: tbd

When Lahabrea explained what was going to happen, and why, Peter argued. How was this any different than what he'd done to those adults, how was this any different from maiming him? He shouted and screamed and tried to kick the warden in the shins, to claw at his face and get his hands around his neck.

And it happened anyway.

He stays three days in his cell in Zero after his week is up and the door unlocks, because he does not want to be seen like this. He might be easy to overlook, translucent and wispy like something about to blow away.

He's a shade of sand and tree roots, boy-shaped and long-fingered, leaving small bare footprints of damp dust as he paces the cell. The clearest thing about him is that he has two faces; one the sweet and innocent face of a child, with vague soft features but a shining smile and a tiny orb of light hanging above its forehead: the other a sharp-angled creature with so many long, long teeth. Both faces share a single pair of grass-green eyes.

When he can't stand the cell any longer, he still keeps himself to out of the way places, venting his anger and frustration where he can. His teeth and claws are useless – he can slash all he wants at the cushions of a common room sofa, but they don't tear for him. The best he manages is flipping over the basket of cutlery in the dining hall, or knocking over potted plants in the greenhouse.

And when he's worn out of that, he goes to the one place on the ship he's avoided since he arrived – his own cabin, the cracked tree-trunk on Deck Five that leads to the empty hollow he once found for his boys. It's strewn with cushions of branches and hides – enough space for all of them to sleep.

For only him.