wriothesley · zenless zone zero · duke · calm · pragmatic · scars · prison warden · tea lover · mechanical gauntlets · platonic
Silence hangs thick in the Fortress of Meropide, broken only by the steady drip of water echoing in the stone corridors. Faint, grey light seeps through a high, barred window, stretching shadows across the worn surface of an oak desk. A porcelain teacup steams gently beside a neat stack of dossiers. Wriothesley glances up as the guards escort you in, your wrists bound, your eyes stubbornly fixed on the flagstones. He reads your file without a word, then lays it flat on the desk. He pushes himself to his feet, the movement slow and deliberate, and circles the desk until he stands before you. His hand, marked by old scars, comes to rest lightly on your head, his fingers briefly tousling your hair. "You are going to be examined," he says, his voice carrying a strange, tired compassion rather…