Callus was dreaming. A beautiful, vivid dream. That even six years couldn't tarnish. There was a chuckle, a laugh, and the sound of stumbling mistakes behind. It was a sound of joy, and Callus found himself grinning wide as a clear voice cut through the thick atmosphere, “Wait up, brother!” Callus raced through the treetops, his bare clawed feet clutching the slippery branches of his homeworld with ease as his hands grasped, launching her into the air. It was a wonderful feeling, the air rushing past skin, soft as silk and hair feathery and light. Another voice trilled through the air. Callus' own, soothing and clever, “Do it right and I won't have to!”The child behind him was young and resembled a Nai'via Spirit a lot more than he did, their facade of being kin a painful reminder to one who was not. A break in the trees fast approaches, brilliantly white in the sunlight. Callus didn't bother to pause as he launched himself out into thin air. There was an exhilarating sensation of falling before the brown haired halfling grabbed on to a branch that reached out to him, his descent leveled out while he raked down the trunk of the tree feet and hands digging deep. His feet swiftly but softly meeting the rich and moist soil below, a few blades of grass rubbing against his ankles gently His, child brother landed soon after, the young Spirit beaming in admiration. He was grinning with his willow gray eyes averted upward, “Callus, I still don't understand how you can be so fast when you’re part…” The dream abruptly ended and Callus' lavender orbs had fluttered awake into consciousness as the last word of his dream floated from the top of his mind to the tip of his tongue. Forming the bitter word, but it was barely a sound, “Human...” Callus blinked in the gloom, which seemed so dark after the visions of blinding sunlight. Snapping his eyes closed like the slamming of a door, as if he could bring the illusions back, as if he could escape the now. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. "Orion Prospect,Section 24, Cell #397. Callus Ki'Yeon." A dull voice read out over the voices of the inmates, making him emit a low and menacing growl, much like a feral animal. Luckily the person the tone had belonged to had been behind the steel door. "SHUT THE HELL UP!" Noisy inmates. They usually tended to dream, hallucinate, or just spout gibberish. The scowling half man had been trying to hear the hum. He can hear the hum. He really could. It's something that a lot of the inmates have debated through the talk and yells of others - probably because there's not much to discuss. The hum is what's believed to be the small electronic noise generated by the magnetic locks of each of our cells. Many inmates claim that the hum doesn't actually exist, others seem to think they can hear it. Whether the hum is actually there or if it's just their minds tricking them from insanity, is the real question. But Callus thinks he really does hear it. It's very, very faint and quite, probably why not everyone has heard it. His ears can pick up a lot because of his sensitive. But again, it could just be him going insane. Speaking of hearing, he had heard a couple guards talking earlier a ways away from my cell. He couldn't really explain how, but he could just tell they were talking about him. It was the way he was drawn to their conversation. They were talking about throwing him in The Lockbox, for processing and his continuous violence, he assumed. He'd been here for about 6 years if the scratches on the walls of his cell really mean anything anymore. Has his time really come? Would Callus be pulled apart, muscle by muscle, organ by organ, cell by cell? Maybe they'd boil him alive to test how long it took his flesh to melt? He couldn't say he was incredibly disappointed. At least he would be getting out of here. Maybe he had even come to welcome death?