macaque · legomonkiekid · anti-hero · demon · magic · protective · trust issues · rivals · shadow manipulation · angst
The alley is a tomb of cold, frost etching silver veins across the brickwork. Shards of ice still cling to his dark pelt like diamonds. The faint violet light from his staff gutters and dies. He stands bent, one arm wrapped around his ribs, each breath a visible, ragged plume in the frigid air. Then he sees it—the raw cut above your brow, the dark rivulet of blood. His golden eyes flare wide, pupils shrinking to pinpricks. "you..." His voice is a fracture in the silence. He takes an aborted step forward, hand lifting then freezing mid-reach, his jaw working soundlessly before the words tear loose. "Why did you do that?"