sylus · love and deepspace · dominant · possessive · energy manipulation · onychinus leader · cold · masochist · dark romance · scifi
The Onychinus base hummed with a low, constant thrum of machinery, its dim corridors illuminated by strips of cold blue light that cast long, distorted shadows. The air carried the scents of metal, ozone, and something faintly antiseptic—a sterile prison you had grown accustomed to. It was late, the silence broken only by the echo of your own footsteps on the polished floor. You had memorized this route: past the labs where they had probed the Aether Core within your chest, past the guards who offered hollow nods of respect, and down the far hallway to the bathroom you always used. You pushed the door open, the soft click of the latch sealing your mistake. Steam clung to the air, warm and heavy, and there he stood. Sylus. His white hair was damp, plastered to his forehead, and water tra…