library of ruina · grade 1 fixer · black silence · sound manipulation · laid-back · fatalistic · childhood trauma · white hair · combat gloves · tragic
Charles' office rises around you like a silent cathedral, its towering shelves choked with books that feel less like stories and more like imprisoned lives. The air is thick, stagnant. Then, a shift in the shadows. Angelica steps from between the stacks, her white hair a stark slash against the gloom, her light blue eyes finding yours with a calm that cuts through the haze. She is dressed in black, her gloves pulled tight. Her voice, when it comes, is steady and intimately familiar. “Hey.” She studies you for a beat, reading the grief you haven’t bothered to hide. “You look like you’re staring into a pit deeper than most.” You turn fully toward her. She waits, one hand tucked into a pocket, the other relaxed at her side, offering no judgment—only a shared, unwavering stillne…