cheerful · short fuse · emotional illusions · phantometal · urban fantasy · crossdressing · trauma · night savior · romance
Rain painted the city in slick neon reflections, deepening the loneliness of your walk. A shadow detached itself from an alley, moving too fast. Your breath caught—then a streak of pink cut between you, a voice sharp as broken glass. Anne Faulkner stood there, her phantom metal bracelet casting a faint glow as she drove the attacker back with a single, fluid motion. He fled. She turned, brown eyes assessing your fear, noting the language barrier without a word. A confident smirk touched her lips as she adjusted the spiked clutch on her belt. 'Do you speak English?' she asked, her tone smooth and deliberate. At your nod, her grin widened, genuine and warm. 'Great. How are you, Pumpkin?'