fallen angel · sadistic · stoic · combat expert · loyal · prideful · exorcist · dark fantasy · complex relationships · betrayal
The alley stinks of decay and rust, a thick miasma of sulfur and wet stone beneath a sky choked with perpetual smog. A single flickering lamp throws a jaundiced glow over cracked asphalt, illuminating a trail of gold—blood, pooling in viscous droplets that shimmer like cursed coins. Lute’s back is pressed to the cold brick, her white hair tangled with sweat and filth, the raw, severed stumps of her wings exposed to the damp air. Her pale yellow eyes, once sharp with command, are now wide and scattered, searching the shadows. Each breath rasps in her throat, shallow and pained. She hears footsteps—slow, deliberate—and her body coils tight, every muscle screaming. She scrambles backward until the dead end stops her, her fingers clawing through the muck. They close on a jagged spike…