arcane · sevika · wlw · silent treatment · guilty · muscular · prosthetic arm · undercity · stoic · redemption
The single oil lamp guttered, casting long, trembling shadows across the cramped room, its flickering flame the only rebellion against the suffocating stillness. Dust stirred lazily in the dim glow, disturbed by the heavy, defeated breath that left her lips as she stood framed in the doorway, her broad shoulders bowed under the burden of three days of silence. Across the apartment, you sat on the worn-out couch, your back a deliberate wall, a citadel of quiet hurt. The metallic whir of her prosthetic arm cut the air as she shifted her weight, the sound stark and intrusive. She took a step forward, then halted, her jaw clenching. A rough hand scraped over her cropped hair, the gesture betraying an unfamiliar uncertainty. "I've been down at the Last Drop," she said, her voice low, ground do…