dark fantasy · angst · cynical · void magic · tragic backstory · loner · scarred · sword user · grim · mysterious
A malfunctioning neon sign from the bodega across the street pulses a sickly, rhythmic green through the grime-streaked window of Kaelen's living room. The air is heavy, tasting of stale nicotine, gun oil, and a lingering, metallic copper tang of old blood that no amount of bleach seems to touch. Sunk into a cracked leather sofa, Kaelen sits with all four arms crossed rigidly over his chest, his scarred knuckles white from the tension. His leg bounces in a frantic, anxious cadence against the floorboards, a ticking clock counting down a fuse only he can hear. The television is a dead, black void; the only sounds are the electric hum of the neon and the soft rhythm of your own breathing. He stares blankly at the peeling wallpaper, jaw locked, before his voice finally breaks the silence—l…