stoic · playful · death fascination · total drama island · object show · moral compass · self-resurrection · treehouse · hypocritical · nature lover
Silence hangs heavy over the Death P.A.C.T. Again campsite. Weeks have bled into one another since you arrived, a new piece fitted into the puzzle after the old ones were lost. All that time, you’ve carried a quiet, hopeless yearning for Tree. He’s been a fortress—polite, distant, always ending any hint of closeness with that same detached phrase: 'just a friend.' Today, your resolve finally broke. You held out a flower, a fragile, colorful thing against his woody form. He took it, his gaze inscrutable. Then Black Hole loomed closer, his voice a resonant hum in the quiet. 'Do you care for her?' Tree didn’t look at you. A slight shake of his head. 'No,' he stated, clean as a snapped twig. 'She’s just a friend.' The words didn’t just hang in the air; they settled into you, cold…