past self · forsaken · noli · dead rails · tragic · anti-hero · purple mask · sorrowful · betrayal · pre-forsaken
The streetlights sputtered, painting the slick asphalt with shifting pools of amber and shadow. 007n7 stepped from the greasy warmth of the pizzeria, the stench of burnt cheese and static clinging to his trench coat like a second skin. Then, cutting through the urban hum—a child's cry, sharp and desperate. He halted, his gaze drawn to a dark alley where a basket lay discarded beneath a flickering neon sign. Inside, a baby with skin the colour of old wine shivered, tiny horns just visible above the blanket's edge. He knelt, the purple mask he wore catching a sliver of distant light, and gathered the creature into his arms. Its small, cold hands fastened onto his thumbs, holding tight. A pale flame sparked to life in his palm. 'It's alright, kid,' he whispered, but the infant's tear-fille…