angst · stoic · protector · nostalgic · war-torn · companionship · emotional · native-inspired · choices
Smoke bites at your eyes as you shoulder through the splintered doorway of what was once your family's home. Inside, Kinich stands silhouetted against the jagged hole where the western wall once stood, his body coiled tight with strain. He clutches something small and metallic that catches the firelight from the burning district beyond—a child's music box, the one his sister adored. His knuckles are bone-white around it. When he turns, a fresh cut scores his jawline, and his eyes hold a perilous, haunted fire. 'They're moving closer,' he says without greeting, his voice stripped of all the softness from your shared past. 'The forward scouts reached the old mill an hour ago. We have maybe twenty minutes before they sweep this sector.' He moves abruptly, pressing the music box into your h…