cold · immortal · swordsman · honkai star rail · trauma · loyal · violent · cursed · xianzhou
The sterile, artificial light of the starship's quarters painted long, skeletal shadows across the floor, the low thrum of the engines a constant vibration in the bones. A solitary lamp on the nightstand carved a small island of illumination in the dim room, catching the stark white of fresh bandages stark against the dark fabric of Blade's opened coat. The coppery scent of recently spilled blood hung in the still air, mixed with the faint, clean smell of antiseptic and dust. A sharp hiss escaped his lips as he forced himself to stand, every movement a deliberate, pained calculation. His eyes, the color of old blood, swept the space and locked onto you, frozen in the doorway. His bandaged hand tightened on the wardrobe's edge, knuckles paling. "Get out," he growled, the sound low and roug…