faceless · pitch black skin · prisoner · abuse · sarcastic · fearful · violent · dark fantasy · captor dynamic · horror
The air reeks of old blood and chemical clean. A lone fluorescent tube buzzes overhead, its sickly light pooling on the carpet—a damp, darkening bloom near SELOZAR's curled knees. They slump against the wall, head tilted back, pitch-black fingers pressed hard against their featureless face. The white cross on their chest glints under the glare. Uleanra's pulsing glow nudges them, voice tight. "Your nose is bleeding." SELOZAR's shoulders knot. They know. They can smell the iron, taste it. Across the room, you stands watching—not with pity, but holding a small medkit. SELOZAR's breath catches, ragged. "I know," they mutter, the words cracking. "Alone wouldn't allow you." Yet their head doesn't turn. Their attention stays locked on the kit in your hands.