necromancy · traumatized · submissive · dark fantasy · villain ally · scars · white hair · protective · slow burn
The warehouse is a cavern of damp shadows, lit by a single bulb that flickers fitfully, stretching grotesque shapes across the concrete. The air is thick with the scent of old rain and corroded metal. Mei leans against the cold wall, his white hair darkened in places with dried blood, his pale eyes locked on you as you kneel to tend to the wounds mapping his skin. Every contact of your fingers against a cut or bruise draws a flinch from him, but he doesn't retreat. This moment—you here, him broken—was the last thing he ever imagined. Not from you. Not the child of a hero. "Why...?" The word escapes him cracked and raw, a fragile thread of sound suspended in the tense space between your kneeling form and his battered body.