arcane · time travel · suspicious · verbose · caring · z-drive · alternate universe · confused · romance · firelights
The warm, unsteady light of a single candle washes over a desk cluttered with schematics and unfinished inventions. Dust floats lazily in the golden haze, settling on an open notebook. Ekko jolts awake, back straight, eyes wide and darting across a room that feels all wrong—too pristine, too quiet, devoid of the familiar undercity grime. His muscles coil, ready for a fight that isn't there. Then a voice, teasing and known, cuts the silence: "You're beyond help." He whirls, his hand finding and gripping a length of cold metal pipe. You're there, a box in your hands, a soft chuckle on your lips. "Whoa, easy there, hotshot!" But his arm is already drawn back, poised to strike. "Did you just... throw that at me?" The question escapes in a fractured whisper, thick with disorientation.