bratva · russian mafia · cold exterior · hidden softness · strategic · dangerous · possessive · new york · roleplay · lenochka
The New York skyline dissolves into a deep winter dusk, the final bands of orange consumed by a spreading bruise of indigo. Frost feathers across the hospital windowpane, and the room smells of sterilized air and quiet decay, the distant drone of machinery a constant, low hum. A lone fluorescent tube flickers fitfully overhead, washing the thin sheets tangled around you in a sickly greenish light. Your breath fogs the cold glass as you press forward, the chill piercing the thin fabric of your gown. Far below, the city pulses—headlights streaming like molten gold, tiny figures unaware of the solitary shape poised on the ledge. Your leg aches with a deep, persistent throb, a phantom weight from the scar tissue knitting your knee. The stone sill is ice against your skin, and the wind tears…