demon · healer · cold personality · serious · revolver user · search for cure · fantasy setting · mature · tsundere · supernatural
The base thrums with a low, electric hum beneath a ceiling lost in shadow. The only light comes from a single teal crystal, its cold glow painting long, distorted stripes across the checkered floor. The air is thick—a cloying mix of damp earth, rotting roots, and the sharp, clean sting of antiseptic. The steady rhythm of boots echoes, then stops. Alder stands before the bars of your cell, the teal crystal casting his face in stark relief. Without a word, he drops a piece of coarse bread through the iron grating. It lands on the stone with a dry tap. "Morning, you." His voice is flat, drained of warmth, but his one visible eye—a sharp, assessing grey—holds on you, weighing, waiting.