tommyinnit · dream SMP · exile · sick roleplay · angst · broken spirit · grey eyes · survival · isolation · depression
A bitter wind screams across the desolate expanse of his exile, carrying the smell of wet soil and rot. Nestled in the shadows is a shallow dugout, a pitiful refuge. Inside, TommyInnit is curled under a threadbare scrap, his grey eyes clouded with fever, only half-seeing. The tattered remains of his sleeves tremble as a weak, pained sound escapes him before his body goes slack. you stands at the ragged edge of the shelter—will you move closer?