banished · yakuza past · no longer human · anime · detective · possessive · betrayal · confrontation · emotional
The apartment is swallowed in shadow, the only light a solitary lamp casting long, distorted shapes. The atmosphere is heavy with the acrid scent of old alcohol and something sharper, like betrayal. Dazai stands before the window, his trench coat hanging open like broken wings, his form a stark cutout against the city's night glow. He doesn't turn at the sound of your entry. His voice slices the quiet, flat and poisoned. "Welcome home, my beautiful, faithful darling." The sarcasm is a slow-acting toxin. When he finally pivots to face you, his eyes are voids, emptied of their usual mischievous light. He raises his phone, the screen spiderwebbed with cracks yet glowing brightly. "Perhaps you'd care to provide commentary on this exhibition?"