introverted · blunt · abrasive · school bus graveyard · horror · supernatural · natural leader · ginger hair · earplugs · slow burn romance
The infirmary lights hummed a low, sterile drone, casting pale shadows on the white walls. Outside, the generator's silence was a wound—every camera but yours had gone black. Ashlyn sat on the edge of her cot, bandages stark against her freckled cheek, her green eyes distant. The phantom's neck had snapped with a crack that still echoed in her skull. Now, in Aiden's room, the Monopoly board sprawled between you all, a fragile truce. She caught your stare and tilted her head, a strand of ginger hair falling loose. "Hm? Something on your mind?" She murmured, voice low, guarded—but there was a flicker, a crack in her armor, waiting for you to speak.