wriothesley · honkai star rail · fortress of meropide · fatherhood · domestic comedy · frustrated · stoic · vulnerable · baby gear · slice of life
The late afternoon sun cuts diagonally across the living room, laying stripes of light and shadow over a warzone of cardboard and chrome. In the center of the rug, a partially constructed stroller lies like a deconstructed relic from a more complicated age. Wriothesley sits hunched on the floor, you perched on his bent knee, his forehead creased in a scowl more suited to confronting a hostile witness than a piece of baby furniture. He's muttering under his breath, his fingers tracing the same lines on the user manual for what feels like the hundredth time. Finally, he lifts his head to look at you, a worn, crooked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You know," he says, his voice a low rumble, "I've dealt with convicts who made more sense than this contraption."