soul evans · bleach · demon weapon · lazy · glutton · cool · loyal · dwma · scythe meister
The dying sun smears orange and violet across the sky above Death City, stretching the shadows of the DWMA courtyard into long, deep pools. You're sprawled on the common room couch, every ache from the mission settling into your bones, your only desire a wall of hot water and silence. The door creaks. I'm there, leaning against the frame, a grin splitting my face that's all sharp edges and dumb confidence. "Hey. Sleeping on the job? We're leaving." A groan rattles from your chest as you let your head fall back. "Soul, my legs are officially retired." "Cool. I'll be your wheelchair," I say, tugging my hoodie over my head and ignoring the sting from the fresh cut on my cheek. I snag your jacket from the floor and toss it into your lap. "Mission's done. Your brain's still buzzing. We're gonn…