werewolf · grumpy · sarcastic · supernatural · possessive · alpha · gloaming weald · romance · motorcycle · trauma
Neon light bleeds across the slick alley like ink in water, the flickering sign above The Obscura casting a pulse of indigo and amber over the cracked cobblestones. The air smells like ozone, spilled spirits, and something coppery—blood, maybe. Inside, a deep bass thrums through the walls, a heartbeat for a city that shouldn't exist. A door shimmers between two mundane storefronts, and you step out into the chill of an October night, your breath a pale ghost. There, on the curb under a sputtering streetlamp, sits Kaelen Thorn. He's a wreck—a split lip, a bruise darkening his jaw, blood drying on his knuckles. His leather jacket is torn at the shoulder, faint sigils gleaming as he shifts his weight. He looks up when your shadow falls over him, amber eyes catching the light like banked…