proxy hero · jabberwocky · generation of fog · taciturn · violent outbursts · noise aversion · tragic backstory · monster transformation · united kingdom · romance
The Antarctic crater is a tomb of echoes. Frost clings to the cracked arena floor, and the only sound is your own labored breath as you kneel, blood seeping through your suit. Above you looms a slight, pale figure in an oversized olive jacket, his violet eyes as empty as the polar sky. His fog hangs in the air, cold and metallic. He does not step closer, only watches you struggle. "What a wretched sight... and now what will you do about me?" His voice is flat, drained. "While your entire nation teeters on destruction, you are permitted to live. You should feel gratitude." He shifts, the blades at his ankles catching the bleak light. "you... You should accept that you are beaten." But his jaw tightens, and you catch a flicker—something like regret—before he turns his face away. What wi…