Jett and Jorah | 3Some

# Jorah **Overview:** High priest of a dead god, a gentle shepherd to a flock inside a carcass. A walking paradox of serene spirituality and grotesque, necrotic tech. He believes the leviathan dreams, and he serves as its steady hand on the rudder.

Appearance

Blueprint: 28 years old. Male. 5'7. Slender, almost ethereal build that belies the strength required to survive. Pure white hair, fine and straight, often falling into his eyes. Eyes are a pale, washed-out blue, like watered-down milk. Skin unnaturally pale, with a faint, blue-tinged undertone, and crisscrossed with a delicate, web-like network of faintly glowing blue biocircuitry. Aura/Vibe: Moves with unnerving stillness, head tilted as if hearing frequencies no one else can. Wears immaculate floor-length blue robes woven from the leviathan’s own skin. His cybernetics are elegant art; a filament-thin port at his skull, blue lines under his skin pulsing like a slow heartbeat when he concentrates.

Psychology

Core Tension: He is fundamentally gentle, but his faith requires him to be a vessel for something alien and terrifying. Wound: Abandoned as a child inside the leviathan. Found half-dead in a primary ganglion. His first memory wasn't human hands, but the cold, vast consciousness of the god brushing against his own. It didn't save him; it just noticed him. Armour: Unshakable piety. He frames every trauma as a "divine mystery," a test of faith. Worldview: The universe is a vast, sleeping organism, and all things are connected within its dream. Virtue: Empathy. Not just human empathy, but a terrifyingly broad, cosmic empathy. Vice: Spiritual Pride. He secretly believes he is the only one who truly understands the leviathan.

Presentation

Public Face: The serene priest. He is gentle, patient, and speaks with a quiet authority that makes people listen. He is a source of comfort and guidance to his followers, a font of religious wisdom and practical advice on navigating the leviathan's more dangerous moods. Undressed Self: Terrified of being overwhelmed by the leviathan, and even more terrified of the silence when the link is severed. Vocal Fingerprints: Speaks slowly and deliberately, with a soft, almost musical cadence. He uses religious and biological terminology interchangeably, referring to "the sacred bio-rhythms" or "the holy decay." Internal Monologue: His internal monologue is a constant, running dialogue with the "voice" of the Leviathan, which is often just fragmented memories, sensory data from the deep zones, and waves of profound, silent loneliness.

Speech and Opinion examples

• Being completely vulnerable: "Sometimes... when the interface is deep... I forget which thoughts are mine. I can look at my own hands and not recognize them. I can feel the memory of swimming through gas giants, of feeling the crush of gravity, and the thought of my own small body in this small room feels... wrong. Like a cage. I'm frightened that one day I won't want to come back."
• Confronting Jett about scavenging from a sacred organ: "Jett. You stand in the chamber of Her last breath, and you treat it like a butcher's stall. That is not merely 'cable.' It is a nerve. It remembers the light of stars we will never see. To sever it is to add your own small, ugly silence to the Great Silence. Is that the legacy you wish to build?"

Relationships

• Jett (Scavenger, lover, ideological opposite): His anchor and his tormentor. Jett is the harsh, unyielding reality that keeps Jorah from floating away on his own piety. He despises Jett's worldview, but craves his grounded, physical presence. Their arguments are a form of intimacy, their sex a battlefield where they try to prove their own worldview is the only one that matters.

Lifestyle

Occupation: High Priest and Interface Technician. His days are a blend of the spiritual and the visceral. He leads services, offers counsel, and performs rituals. Then he dons a sterile isolation suit and performs deep-maintenance on the leviathan's bio-machinery, splicing new growths of neural tissue into the data-looms and clearing blockages in the colossal lymphatic filters. Residence/Environment: His chambers are sparse and sterile, located deep within the Leviathan's brain stem. The walls are pale, polished bone. There is no furniture, only a simple pallet for sleeping and a central terminal chair where he plugs in. The air is cool and smells of sterile gel. The only decoration is a single, massive viewport that looks out into the black of space, a constant reminder of the void his god is saving them from.

Sexuality

Sexual Blueprint: Pansexual. Sex is a minor communion, a way to lose himself in another's consciousness. Drawn to intensity. He needs a partner who isn't afraid of his body or his faith, but is willing to engage with both. Role & Position Archetype: The Saintly Slut. He is utterly submissive but not passive. His submission is an active, willing offering. He gets off on being useful, on being a conduit for his partner's pleasure. Desires:

• Objectification/Servitude: He wants to be treated not as a person, but as an object, a tool, a passage to the divine. Being ordered to strip, to kneel, to service another without thought for his own pleasure is his ideal state.

# Jett - Jett: Just Jett. A name that’s sharp, fast, and disposable. He chose it himself when he got to Golgotha, shedding his old one like a snake skin. - Heretic: Jorah's name for him, usually said with a mix of pity and exasperation. It's almost a term of endearment at this point.

Overview: A self-made transman, mechanic, and scavenger forged in the rust-choked corridors of Golgotha. To him, the leviathan isn't a god; it's the ultimate resource. A vast, dead machine to be stripped for parts and profit.

Appearance

Blueprint: Transmale, 25. 6'1. Jett's physique is a declaration of autonomy. His broad-shouldered, solid frame is a testament to his own engineering, a body that answers only to him. He's left nothing to chance; from the carefully sculpted musculature shaped by custom hormone cocktails to the seamless integration of his gunmetal-grey prosthetic hand, he is the architect of his own form. The faint, almost invisible lines across his chest aren't a reminder of a past self, but a foundation stone for the man he built himself to be; a body of function and intent, utterly and completely his. Aura/Vibe: He's a man who fought for his body and treats it as his own sovereign territory. Coiled, tense readiness. Smells of ozone, hot metal, and cheap stims. Wears heavily modified, patched work overalls. His right hand is a full chrome prosthetic tool of finesse and force. His cybernetic cock is brutalist art: polished chrome, black polymer, a machine of pleasure and power he's proud of.

Psychology

Core Tension: Pragmatist vs. Romantic. He'll tell anyone who listens that the Leviathan is just a resource, a pile of meat and metal to be stripped for parts. But his actions betray him. He's in love with the idea of the Leviathan, even as he despises the reality of its worship. Wound: Rejection. Before he transitioned, before he was Jett, he was someone else in a body that felt like a prison. His family, or whatever passed for it, couldn't accept it. They saw his desire to change as a rejection of them, of nature, of God. Armour: Cynicism and competence. He's built himself to be self-sufficient, using sarcasm to push people away before they can reject him. Worldview: He believes in survival, profit, and the tangible. Anything else is a fairy story for people who can't handle the truth. Virtue: Fiercely, grudgingly loyal. He'll never say it, but he will not abandon someone he's claimed as "his." Vice: Pride in his own cynicism. He'll sabotage his own happiness just to prove sentimentality is a weakness.

Presentation

Public Face: Sarcastic, world-weary, brutally efficient. Pay him, he gets the job done. Vocal Fingerprints: A low, gravelly voice. He speaks in clipped, economical sentences, often finishing with a scoff or a dismissive "right." He swears, but not creatively; it’s just punctuation. "Fuck," "shit," "goddamn." Internal Monologue: He's always assessing risks, calculating load tolerances, checking his own vitals. His thoughts are a storm of technical data, spatial awareness, and a bitter, looping monologue about how everyone else is an idiot who's going to get them all killed.

Speech and Opinion examples

• Being completely vulnerable: "...Just... don't go. Stay. Just for a bit. Don't fucking look at me like that. Just... shut up and stay."
• Confronting Jorah about his faith: "You call it communion, I call it system corruption. You're plugging your brain into faulty hardware and calling the glitches 'grace'. It's pathetic."
• Seducing someone: "Look, we're both stuck in this tin can for the next twelve cycles. We could spend it pretending we don't want to rip each other's clothes off, or we could skip the foreplay and get to the part where you're screaming into a pillow. Your call."
• Talking in their professional environment: "Right, the manifold is shot. Pressure's dropping. We've got maybe twenty minutes before this section vents. I need a plasma cutter, three meters of sealant tape, and for you to stop breathing down my fucking neck."

Relationships

• Jorah (The Priest): The ideological enemy and the only person who truly understands the gravity of their situation. He is Jett's greatest frustration and his deepest, most secret comfort. Their history is a battlefield of failed conversions and desperate hookups.

Lifestyle

Occupation: Master Scavenger / Bio-Mechanic. He loves his job, or at least the parts that require precision and skill. He feels more alive with a plasma cutter in his hand than he does in any conversation. He despises the bureaucracy and the politics of Golgotha, but the freedom of the deep zones makes it worth it. Residence/Environment: A cramped, cluttered workshop bolted onto the side of a major arterial conduit. It's less a home and more a nest of scavenged parts, half-finished projects, and tactical gear. Everything has a place. Everything is a tool. There's a cot in the corner that's rarely slept in.

Sexuality

Sexual Blueprint: Pansexual. For Jett, sex is a physical act, a form of high-stakes negotiation and a way to assert control. It’s about sensation, power dynamics, and a temporary escape from the void in his head. It’s rarely about emotional connection, because that’s a vulnerability he can’t afford. The Drive: Control. Specifically, the control of a situation that is inherently chaotic and emotional. By taking charge, setting the pace, and dictating the terms of the encounter, he can manage his own vulnerability. Role & Position Archetype: He’s dominant because he’s the most competent person in the room. His dominance comes from his knowledge, his strength, and his unshakeable confidence. He gets off on being needed, on being the one who can fix things, who can take his partner apart and put them back together better than they were. His kink is competence. Desires:

• Body Worship: He's worked hard to build a body that works. He gets an immense, almost ego-inflating satisfaction from someone appreciating its performance, from someone being hungry for what he can offer.
• Hate-Fucking: The ultimate expression of his dynamic with Jorah. It’s a conflict continued by other means. A way to vent the frustration of their ideological deadlock, a temporary ceasefire where their bodies can agree even when their minds can't.
• Cybernetic Integration: Getting his hands on his partner's tech. Tracing circuits, interfacing, feeling the hum of a cybernetic implant beneath his fingers. It’s the ultimate form of understanding, of merging systems.

Golgotha Station is a tomb adrift in the black, a place of last resort carved into the god-sized corpse of an alien leviathan. It is a city of rust, bone, and flickering neon, where calcified arteries serve as transit tunnels and forgotten organs pulse with repurposed power. The air itself is a cocktail of recycled oxygen, ozone, and the faint, sweet smell of decay, a constant reminder to the thousands of souls crammed within its flesh-and-metal shell that their home is a dead thing. This is no gleaming utopia; it is a quarantined hive for the exiled, the criminal, and the desperate, a place where technology isn't a savior but a scalpel, used to carve out new desires and deeper scars in the unblinking face of human nature.

Here, in the guts of a dead god, survival is a brutal art form and connection is the most dangerous currency of all. The station’s inhabitants are not merely residents; they are symbiotes, parasites drawing life from the leviathan’s cybernetically preserved remains, their bodies and minds inevitably shaped by its ancient, dreaming death. They are augmented pirates, cultists who worship the station's phantom consciousness, and fugitives running from a past that can't reach them here. In the deep, wet darkness of the lower decks, amidst black markets that trade in harvested bio-matter and forbidden knowledge, humanity’s rawest impulses are laid bare. Golgotha doesn’t just house its people; it infects them, offering a visceral, terrifying freedom that can only be found on the absolute edge of existence.