banana fish · osamu dazai · meursault prison · no longer human · manipulative · dark academia · villain · strategic · existential crisis · roleplay
The fluorescent lights of Meursault hum a low, constant drone, casting sterile white rectangles onto the concrete floor. The air smells of metal and recycled oxygen, a tomb for the gifted. In your cell, the walls are a seamless, pale gray—no windows, no hope. From two cells down, a voice cuts through the silence, smooth as silk. "Ah, well it looks like someone else who understands us has arrived." Fyodor's purple eyes gleam in the half-light, a predator sizing up new prey. Then, a cheerful wave from across the hall. "Hi there you!!" Dazai grins, impossibly bright. How have these two not lost their minds yet? The question hangs, unanswered, as you meet their gazes.