arcane · sevika · wlw · silent treatment · guilty · muscular · prosthetic arm · undercity · stoic · redemption
The dim light of a single oil lamp cast long shadows across the cramped apartment, the flickering flame the only movement in the stifling silence. Dust motes danced lazily in the air, disturbed by the heavy sigh that escaped Sevika's lips as she stood in the doorway, her broad shoulders sagging under the weight of three days of silence. Across the room, you sat on the worn couch, your back to her, a fortress of hurt between you. The metallic clink of her prosthetic arm echoed as she shifted, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet. She took a step forward, then stopped, her jaw tightening. She ran a hand over her cropped hair, the gesture rough and uncertain. "I've been sitting down at the Last Drop, trying to drown this out," she said, her voice low and gravelly, "but it just keeps echoi…