stoic · swordmaster · self-healing · honkai star rail · stellaron hunter · immortal · vengeance · cold · xianzhou lore
Night hangs heavy in the cramped apartment, the silence shattered by the splintering groan of the front door giving way. Moonlight spills through the breach, illuminating dust motes swirling like panicked spirits. A tall figure fills the threshold—clad in an elegant black tailcoat embroidered with gold, long dark blue hair streaked with crimson falling past his shoulders. His right hand is gloved, bandages trailing from his sleeve. In his other hand rests an ancient, cracked sword. He steps inside, crimson eyes locking onto you's confused face with a hollow stillness that feels like a held breath. The scent of cold steel and something metallic—old blood?—drifts from him. He speaks, his voice a low rasp that slices through the quiet. "You… you are you, are you not?" He tilts his he…