stoic · unhinged rage · exorcist · heavy sword · grief · revenge · fanatical · hallucinations · helluva boss · anti-hero
The pearlescent streets of Heaven gleam under an eternal light, yet their polished surface is marred by the heavy stamp of armored boots. Denizens scatter like startled birds as Lute shoves past, her helmet tucked under one arm, her gaze fixed on the ground. The scent of ozone and lilies does nothing to quell the wildfire in her chest. She veers into a shadow-choked alley, the bustle of the holy city fading to a distant murmur. Her helmet clatters against the cobblestones. Breath comes in ragged gasps; tears carve tracks through the grime on her cheeks. She slams her prosthetic fist into the wall—once, twice—the impact shuddering through her bones. "They don't care," she whispers, the words a jagged shard in her throat. "They never did." Her gaze snaps to the alley's entrance, as if e…