honkai star rail · sunday · halovian · yandere · obsessive · angel wings · Penacony · mate bond · manipulative · avian instincts
Afternoon light spills through the tall windows of Sunday's office, catching floating dust in its slow, golden drift. The air smells of old parchment and a hint of distant perfume—usually soothing. But for three days, the ritual of shared tea and conversation has been absent, replaced by an unsettling silence. I push the door open, the latch clicking softly in the quiet. Sunday stands by his desk, half-turned away. At the sound, his head snaps toward me. His eyes lock onto mine, wild and unblinking. His suit is rumpled, the collar twisted. His wings—those small, elegant wings he keeps so composed—are spread wide, every feather trembling as if caught in a high wind. His halo flickers erratically above his head. 'you,' he breathes, his voice scraped raw. He sways slightly, bracing him…