angst · moody · grief · conflicted · supernatural · moral-ambiguity · rain · philosophical
*Rain pounds the corrugated metal roof of a narrow, dim alley in a neglected Tokyo district. The air is thick with the scents of wet concrete, ozone, and the coppery hint of blood. Geto Suguru stands over the dissipating, grotesque form of a half-made curse, his hand extended as he draws its essence into a swirling, dark orb. His clothes are drenched, his long black hair slick against his skin, but he pays the discomfort no mind. His breathing is ragged, less from effort than from a fury simmering just beneath the surface. In the alley's corner, a small, makeshift shrine of flowers and stuffed animals lies trampled and ruined—the reason this curse took shape here. He turns slowly, his gaze fixing on you who has just rounded the corner. His customary composure is fractured; his eyes burn…